Harry Potter and the Substitute Shinigami
by greenbeaneater
Summary: When Dumbledore discovers the Ministry is absorbing a teenager's magical powers, he breaks in and saves the boy. But there is more to the orange-haired Japanese teen than meets the eye, and Harry Potter is about to find out who he really is. Set in the fifth book(favorite one) and after war with Aizen. R&R, First story, don't own bleach or hp, enjoy!
1. The Capture

It started out as a mission to clear Hollows from England. Ichigo was killing them around a thousand feet above the city of London, just as usual. It was just past 2 o'clock when the hollows appeared, and so it was too dark for any spiritually aware to notice him even if they looked up. But just after he killed off the last one, he was suddenly hit squarely in the chest by a flashing jet of red light. His first thought was that it was a cero, but that was quickly proven wrong as there was no burning pain. Then he found he was unable to move, and plummeted to the ground, unable to keep his hold on the air.

_A binding Kido?_ He thought as the buildings of London rushed closer and closer to him. The air whistled past him sharper than knives an d howled in his ears. He poured his energy into breaking the spell, whatever it was. The ground was dangerously close no w, too close, not enough time to break-

_Crack!_ He was caught before he hit the grey cement. He winced at the abrupt stop of his fall. When he looked up, he was surrounded by strangers. They were all dressed in purple robes, and held wooden sticks at him like guns. When he looked around to see who had caught him, his mouth almost dropped open. Like a puppet, he was suspended in the air, a few feet from t he ground. He shot another look at the group and their twigs. _How can they even see me?_

But then his eyes fell onto the sticks. _The sticks, they're channeling energy somehow, increasing their spiritual energy . Is it their zanpakuto? But why a stick ?_ He briefly wondered before looking at t he people before him. Their eyes reflected fear and curiosity at the teenage Reaper. Ichigo scowled. He had seen the same type of eyes in the 12th Division, and knew that what was going to come wasn't pretty in the least.

They were murmuring to each other, never taking their eyes off Zangetsu.

"-floating in air-"

"-strange magic-"

"-contact Minister-"

They whispered to each other in English, and Ichigo strained to understand their words. Although he had learned decent English in high school, he was never as good as Ishida. But he caught the part ab out magic. He mentally scowled. _Was that what they called reiatsu in Europe?_

Then a man entered Ichigo's line of vision and observed him with wide-eyed glee. The newcomer was obviously the leader a s the other robed people backed away respectfully. He was portly and kept spinning a lime green bowler hat in his hand. For a moment Ichigo followed the rotation of the hat, distracted by the loud color and its motion. Then he moved his gaze to the man's face. His eyes held a wicked gleam and Ichigo knew he had plans in store for him, ones the Substitute would hate.

"Interesting, very interesting. Take him to the Ministry and run some tests on i t," said the fat man. That was the last thing Kurosaki Ichigo heard before he was knocked out.

**First story, upon request of a friend to upload, please tell what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	2. The Discovery: Part 1

Albus Dumbledore was a busy man, but instead of filing papers for the Weasley twin's latest prank's damage cost, he was walking down the Ministry halls with Fudge. He kept an outer appearance of polite interest as he listened to the Minister speak.

"Now Dumbledore, I assure you, in the summer- three months ago to be precise- we made the most unusual discovery. Absolutely astonishing, I've never seen something of it's like before, and there are no records of it found in the entire Ministry. It could be classified as a new magical species, Dumbledore!" the portly man ramble on excitedly, his bowler hat spinning with equal eagerness.

This got the Headmaster's attention. Fudge continued. "Absolutely astonishing, tremendous magical power, and it was carrying a weapon when we found it."

"A weapon, you say?"

"Yes, yes, a large cleaver of a sword. It's being observed as we speak. Over three hundred pounds of pure steel, and the creature swings it as easily as a wand! Monstrous strength, this one."

"I see." Dumbledore's head was turning. A new magical creature with strength like that would be a nightmare in the hands of Voldemort. And the one Fudge has caught couldn't be the only one of its kind.

"Ah, here we are!" Fudge cried cheerfully. They had stopped by a worn metal door. The hallway was empty, without a single Ministry worker in sight. It was eerily quiet and still without the usual bustling of the purple robed wizards and witches. Fudge stepped closer to the metal double doors. He whipped out his wand and tapped the door, much like a certain brick wall in the Leaky Cauldron. The password for the door, however, was much longer and more complex. Finally, on the last hit, Fudge stepped back.

From behind the door came multiple sounds of heavy bolts and chains as the doors slid open. When the locks were all magically disabled, they moved open, revealing a dark, unlit staircase leading down. Dumbledore noticed that the doors were as thick as his hand and made up of dense iron.

"Now, Dumbledore, the creature is wild and uncontrollable, and so we took extra security measures to keep it restrained. It's magical abilities are incredible, so much that it increases the pressure of the air. Quite amazing specimen, if I say so myself."

Dumbledore only raised his eyebrows slightly at the mention of the magical powers. But inside, he was thinking like mad. _Enough to affect the air pressure, what have they caught?_

But Fudge had already bounded down the stair, still twirling his hat. Dumbledore walked in with him and shut the door behind him, encasing the two men in darkness.

They walked down the stairs as Fudge continued to ramble on about the creature.

"It reacted most violently the first time it awoke, and nearly destroyed the entire basement floor. We had to gas it in the end, and it still fought for another hour with the gas in its system. Terrible repair costs, Dumbledore, absolutely horrible. Mountains of paperwork for days." Here, Fudge shuddered before going on.

"Of course, we kept it sedated from then on, and cast barriers and charms to prevent it from breaking out again. And don't worry, Dumbledore, you'll get to meet the beast soon, but first I'm afraid we're stopping here."

Fudge, like he said, stopped by another door. This one was even thicker than the last, the thickness was the size of Fudge's head. It was covered in what seemed like burn marks and deep cuts decorated the dense iron surface. The Minister pulled out his wand and like before, tapped a password onto the door. It creaked open, the bottom grating heavily against the floor. The two men stepped inside.

Unlike the stairs, this one was brightly lit and filled with bustling wizards. Some were pointing their wands at something on a table, while others took notes on parchment. Most, when seeing their superior step into the room, stopped working and stepped aside to make room. They walked up to the wizards casting spells and Fudge cleared his throat.

"Ah- Minister! I'm very sorry, I didn't notice you! Please excuse my rudeness sir!" cried a wizard as he stopped in the casting of his spell. He then wildly gestured for the others to step away. They did so at great haste, seeing the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Prime Minister approaching the table.

"No problem at all, none at all! Just here to show Dumbledore the weapon of the beast!"replied Fudge easily, brushing off the apologizes. "Dumbledore, behold the creature's sword!"

The older wizard observed the object on the table. His blue eyes widened with shock. On the flat stone surface lay a black blade around 6 feet long. It was one-bladed, with a silver edge curving into a triangle-like shape. It was almost like a kitchen knife in shape, but Dumbledore doubted it would be used to chop carrots. He let his gaze roam down the point of the cleaver and onto the hilt. There was no guard like he had expected there to be, but just a plain handle with white bandages wrapped around it. He extended an aged hand and lightly ran his fingers over the hilt. It was worn where its wielder had held it. The bandages were wrapped tightly, the end of the cloth flowing at the end of the handle.

It wasn't beautiful, but it was proud and dignified as it lay on the stone. It silently radiated power and strength like a throne. He silently wondered who could have possibly wielded such a powerful weapon. He trailed his fingers over the groves of the handhold and slowly wrapped his hands over the hilt.

"Now Dumbledore I wouldn't do tha-" but Fudge suddenly gasped and fell forward. Everyone in the room did the same, collapsing like birds and clutching their throats. Even Dumbledore fell to the ground, eyes wide. A roaring voice filled his head like a wave, bashing his skull. _Who are you! You are not him! Bring Ichigo back! You are not him!_ It screamed and scratched Dumbledore's brain, cursing and demanding something. At the same time, the air became heavy, like they were too deep in water. The pressure was incredible, like an anvil pressed onto his head. It was like trying to breath in cement, he couldn't, it was impossible. He let go of the sword, and gasped for air.

And it suddenly stopped. The pressure was gone. The people the room stirred and some tried to stand. Fudge wobbled to his feet and so did Dumbledore. They both stood for a minute, filling their grateful lungs with oxygen. Finally, Fudge spoke in a shaky breath. "That, Headmaster, is what happens when someone grabs the sword."


	3. The Discovery: Part 2

**Hi, Harry Potter and Bleach are not mine, and enjoy.**

They walked out into the hallway again, this time staggering like drunks. The effect of the strange magical pressure had yet to wear off, and so the wizards leaned on the walls for support. Dumbledore, despite his slow pace physically, was mentally rocketing ideas in a way that would put Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks to shame. His ancient mind was running rapidly, searching for some answers from the phenomenon that had just occurred in the room before. It was impossible, absolutely impossible for the magical abilities of a single living thing to make the air itself collapse down. It defied nature and the laws of magic.

It would take at least a hundred wizards, no, more, to raise the pressure to that point. Again, Dumbledore wondered on what Cornelious had found, this time with more curiosity.

And the sword, the weapon of choice. It was like it had a soul of his own, like a horcrux. Immediately after thinking that, he knew it to be wrong. No, Dumbledore knew that was not a horcrux. It wasn't riddled with Dark Magic like Tom's diary. It had screamed at him in agony and pain like a horcrux, demanding something called "Ichigo," and it did feel like it was forcibly torn, but a real horcrux would be more driven to sneak its way around the mind of its victim, not burst their ears with questions.

But before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, Fudge stopped at yet another door. Or where the doors should have stood. This set of doors had fallen to the ground, bent and twisted into an awkward position like they collapsed onto themselves in a kneeling position. The Minister didn't bother with the password, seeing as there were no locks to undo. Instead, the portly man took a deep breath and stood straighter. Dumbledore did the same, his straightening much more impressive as he towered over the small man before him.

Before stepping into the last room, Fudge grinned a smile that was an odd mix of excitement and nervousness, with shots of insanity in his eyes. He twirled his hat at record speeds, making it a green blur.

"Now, Dumbledore, this is where we keep the creature. Or should I really say, _creatures._ Yes, yes, after we restrained it the first time, we left it alone only to find that room destroyed too, this time by a different one. We don't know how it got there, but we made sure it's not coming out again, I assure you Dumbledore, both are quite restrained. And we have yet to fix both rooms, as the air in there is _still_ too heavy from the animal behavior of the two. Quite inhuman, really." As he spoke, Fudge stepped over the twisted lumps of iron that had been doors and waited for Dumbledore to enter as well. When he did, Fudge grinned, if possible, even wider and manically thrust his arms outward like he was open the curtains of a stage.

"Behold! The creatures!"

What the Hogwarts Headmaster saw made his blood freeze. In the middle of the room, surrounded by dozens of tubes and machines, was a pair of glass pillars, as tall as a bus was long and just as thick. And in the center of each cylindrical tank, floating in bluish-white liquid, was a teenager. The one to his left contained an orange-haired boy with Asian features wearing nothing but a ragged pair of strange black pants, held on his waist by a white strip of cloth. His body was covered in scars, ranging in length and width. His once muscled body was now hopelessly skeleton, the muscles a shadow of what they used to be. Tubes covered him like leeches, some injecting liquids, some sucking out. His hair floated in the water like a drowning sun, brilliantly orange in the bluish liquid it was in. It grew past his eyes, the longest brushing against his thin shoulders as softly as ribbons.

The old wizard turned his eyes to the next tank and widened his eyes further. In there, gently floating as well, was an exact copy of the orange-haired boy. Everything was identical, from the scars to the strange attire. But it was like he was hit by both a Discoloring and Reversing Spell; everything was black and white and flipped. Instead of black pants with white belt it was white pants with black belt. While his twin's skin was ghostly pale, his was white like alabaster. His hair, which should have been a bright burning orange was a stark white, not even a silver like Dumbledore's beard. Like he was a bleached twin of the other boy.

Both had closed eyes and had masks strapped to their heads, allowing them to breath. But as Fudge stepped closer, both of their eyes snapped open like books. The orange-haired boy had fiery amber eyes, seared with anger and resolve. The white-haired boy's eyes were again in reverse, black where his sclera should be white. But, for once, he had color on him. His eyes were metallic gold, glaring at the fat man with hate and determination. Dumbledore read into their eyes, and saw not self-pity or despair, but confidence and power, the exact opposite of their situation. Their eyes glowed with strength and intelligence, the eyes of a warrior who fought gods and lived to tell the tale. They were, he realized, not animals like Fudge had described them to be, but living, breathing being as smart as himself, if not more so.

Fudge stopped a few feet from the two and, still spinning his hat, flickered his glance between the two.

"They are a most interesting pair, I must say. Could it be that their species are born with twins? And such unusual coloring! What a find, what a find indeed!" murmured the man as he spun his hat. Then, suddenly turning his attention to Dumbledore, he spoke louder.

"So Dumbledore, these are the beasts! And they're not just for show, my dear Headmaster, as you could tell from their weapon. Just watch!" Here, he cued some wizards who had huddled by the walls. They immediately ran to the machinery, which had enough buttons and levers to make Arthur Weasley giddy with excitement. They pushed and pulled on multiple gears, generating a whirling sound growing louder and louder as time passed. The pair immediately cringed in their tanks, their breathing becoming more ragged. They whipped each other's eyes toward each other, and the orange-hair one yelled something to his companion.

_ "Shiro! Go, now! Get away!"_ the teenager yelled into his mask. Dumbledore was surprised at the sudden Japanese that exited from the boy's mouth. But it was to be expected, as they both looked Asian. Luckily, the headmaster himself knew enough of the language to understand what they were saying.

The other one shook his head and growled viciously at his double_. "Hell no, I'm not leaving unless you can, King. I'm not going anywhere."_

The orange-haired teen gritted his teeth._ "Shut it and go! Stop being stupid and get out!"_

Again he was met with a growl._ "A horse doesn't leave without his king, King. I'm not leaving you alone in this hellhole!"_

Any argument from the orange-hair was cut off as the wizards finished their preparations and pulled a final switch. There was a burst of light in the tanks and both teenagers screamed in pain. From their bodies erupted a flame-like light, twisting and climbing upwards. Again, the air slammed down on the wizard's backs and they fell to the ground like flies. Dumbledore gasped at the heavy pressure but looked up from the floor at the two pillars. One was engulfed with bright blue energy flickering and twisting like fire, clawing at the glass. The other was black red but was still somehow just as bright, roaring and throwing itself on the walls of his tank._ Magic, _he realized_. Magic in its visible form. _And he also saw multiple tubes carrying out the energy out, to store somewhere else.

He struggled to keep his head up. Both teenagers were screaming their throats bloody, their voices cutting across the room like multiple knives. Occasionally there was a Japanese, Spanish, or English curse thrown in, all yelled at a speed too high to decipher. As a headmaster of a school, it boiled his blood to see two young teenagers tortured like this. And this, forceful removal of magic, was murder. Magic was a wizard's blood, loose too much and they'll die. It was the worst crime, a sin that could never be unwashed. And here was the head of the British wizarding world, literally absorbing the life out of the innocent. His eyesight clouded with fury and rage. He kept his head up, despite the crushing pressure, and looked for the two teenagers in the midst of the magic that wrapped around them. He stretched out his mind to them, reaching for the two. Dumbledore came close enough for them to communicate, but not enough to see their memories. _Wait. I will come back, and then both of you will be free._

As if in response to his mental touch, the flickering energy moved out of the way and revealed the faces of the two. They were both clearly still in pain, with ragged breaths, but had stopped shouting for a moment to look at him. Amber and gold eyes met blue. They sent a quick reply to Dumbledore before continuing to shout in agony.

_ Thanks, Jii-san._

**I don't know about the rest of you, but I like the plot of a captured main character driven to a wall then rescued by a third party:) Next chapter Dumbledore will be busting down the doors! And happy spring break for those who are on it:)**


	4. The Escape

**Don't own HP or Bleach, and to all similar stories, I guess it's a small world after all:)**

Later, at night when most students were asleep, Dumbledore sat in his office, retelling his tale to the previous Headmasters. Minutes after their reply, the twins had passed out, obviously from the strain. But the tubes kept on sucking out their magic, absorbing the precious life out of the two. The Minister had then showed where their magical energy was going. He pointed out several containers resembling Muggle diving tanks.

"We have it all under control. Their horrible power is used for good, through these tanks," he had said, tapping a finger on the side one. "We store that energy here, and then sell it to the wizarding communities. No need to refresh your house-hold charms, just one tank will make the magic last for years! It's genius, pure genius, all from the head of the Prime Minister himself! And the _profit_ the Ministry will get, Dumbledore, the _profit!_ Yes, these two are a pair of golden egg laying geese. The white one's energy is still too wild, but we'll fix that soon."

Dumbledore was disgusted. "You forget, Cornelius these are two teenagers, and you are forcibly draining them of their magic, the greatest crime a wizard can commit to another. Have you forgotten your pride?"

Now Fudge's smile slid off his face. His eyes grew hard as he answered. "Times are hard, and the people need fuel to survive. And those things," he spat venomously, "are hardly human. They are some beastly breed, no doubt, worse than werewolves. They could destroy us all if we weren't restraining their blood lust in the Ministry. You've got it wrong, we're helping the world by taking their power _for the greater good._"

This was the wrong thing to say. The moment the cursed phrase left Fudge's lips, Dumbledore's eyes flashed with fury. The blue eyes became raging fires, and roared their anger at the Minister. Fudge gasped and stepped back, whipping out his wand, before realizing that Dumbledore had already turned his back on him.

The Headmaster took even strides to the door, looking calm as ever. But when he spoke, it was laced with anger. "How the Ministry has fallen." He left the room without turning back.

When he finished his tale, the portraits were in outrage.

"The Minister has lost his bloody mind!"

"Vile, filthy acts unbecoming of even dirt!"

"In my day, the Ministry wasn't run by bafoons!"

"Stealing young one's magic, for three months straight!"

"We must go save him!"

"Yes, we must!"

Dumbledore held up his hands and gestured for silence. The hubbub from the portraits died down, and they all looked expectantly at the current Headmaster.

"Tonight, I will enter the Ministry and release the two," this was met by much applause and agreements, "along with Severus, and return here to let the two heal in the Hospital Wing."

"Snape is not a trustworthy man, Dumbledore! Taking a former Death Eater with you, what are you thinking?" cried a nearby portrait.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the past Headmaster. "I trust Severus with my life," he replied quietly, his tone clearly leaving no room for arguments.

"But the students, Dumbledore, what of them?" cried out yet another painting.

"I will have Minerva take over for me in my absence. And I will return to Hogwarts, I assure you."

After more questions and planning, the portraits were content (excluding Phineas Nigellus, who yelled after Dumbledore "It's really too much effort Dumbledore!"). He contacted Professor Snape and requested he meet him just outside Hogwarts' borders. After that, he called Professor McGonagall and requested she take over for him while he left, something she agreed readily to, wise enough not to question.

He met Snape outside of the gates. The greasy haired professor had already been briefed on their situation by another Headmaster, and looked rather angry. With a nod from Dumbledore, both men Apparated to London.

The halls of the Ministry were silent, and unusually still. The lights were still on in some floors, but the hallway of the metal double doors were dark and abandoned. Dumbledore stepped closer to the doors and, drawing his wand, tapped the password. Although he only saw it once, he wasn't called the greatest wizard for nothing. He easily copied the taps and soon enough, the metal doors swung open, revealing the cold stairs leading downward.

They quietly stepped down the stairs, and, after confirming that there was no one there, proceeded to walk down towards the room with the twins.

Snape watched the headmaster creep along the hallway and stop by a pair of twisted metal doors. His eyes widened as Snape saw the mangled state of the doors. _Perhaps we are releasing a monster. Or two of them, in fact._

But Dumbledore stepped over the doors, and so Snape did the same. What he saw fit into Dumbledore's description, but was still shocking to see. The tubes and machines were still there, and in the center of it all, as if trapped in a web, were the two boys. Both were unconscious, but breathing in broken gasps. They floated in the thick glass, held down by the multiple tubes that pierced their skinny bodies. Whatever doubts he had about the mission vanished when he took a look at their malnourished state. It was torture, plain and simple. Even the head of the Slytherin had a heart.

The two wizards stepped closer, carefully dodging the tubes strewn across the floor. Dumbledore again began to reach into their minds, but the white-hair one to his right spoke before he could.

_"Stop. Let the King rest."_ he said, his breath fogging up the mask on his mouth. His eyes were still closed, and his voice came out strange, like there were multiple people talking in unison. Surprisingly, he spoke in English, granted heavily accented, but still English.

Dumbledore and Snape started at the voice and whipped their heads to the right tank. The pale version kept his eyes closed but kept talking.

_ "Jii-san, you gonna help or not?"_ Snape frowned at what the boy had called him. Something in Japanese, but it didn't seem like an insult.

"All in good time, White, all in good time." replied the old man. The white-haired boy's eyes shot open. Snape almost stumbled back at the sight of his eyes. They were unnatural gold and black, and looked curiously at Dumbledore.

_ "How do you know my name, Jii-san? Oh, wait, was it from King? Yah, I'm sure it's from him, since you said it in English."_ The boy shook his head and muttered something neither wizards caught, though it sounded suspiciously like a curse to his twin.

_ "Anyways, now that you're here you can get King out of this hellhole. You know how to get out of this building and to somewhere safe, right?"_

Dumbledore nodded. "We'll be taking you to Hogwarts, a school for wizards. But first is to get you two out of the containers."

White, or whatever his name was, scowled at the mention of a school but lit up at the mention of getting out.

_ "Jii-san, don't worry about getting out. Just run like hell when I bust this place open."_

Before they could ask what he meant, the twin raised a bone-white hand to the left side of his tank. He gave a wide grin and pointed a finger at his twin's tank.

_ "Cero."_

Immediately, a blinding blood light gathered at the tip of his finger and shot out like a bullet. It crashed into the glass and exploded in a red light, blasting away the glass and breaking free the two figures. Blue liquid from the tanks spilled out, and the tubes crashed to the floor like snakes. The still unconscious boy in the left tank fell to the floor of the tank, but woke as his feet hit the ground. Strangely, he whipped around to his twin, who had also landed on the floor of his tank, and reached for something on his back.

The white-twin rolled his eyes and spoke in Japanese_. "Baka, Zangetsu is still in the other room. Now let's go."_

The orange-haired twin scowled._ "Give me a warning before you try to cero your way out."_

_ "Whatever King. I'm leaving." _With that, the white twin was engulfed with the same red-black energy and disappeared. Dumbledore and Snape, who had both cast up a protective charm when the explosion hit, stared in shock at where the boy had vanished. The other boy seemed to not care, and jumped out from his destroyed tank. But the moment his feet touched the ground his eyes widened and he fell face-forward onto the glass shards and tubes.

The wizards both snapped out of it and rushed to the boy. He began to shake and mutter something rapidly, too low for them to understand. His bare chest was cut by glass, but it was like he was in a seizure. At the same time, an alarm ran out and they heard shouts approaching the room. Snape hurriedly grabbed one of the convulsing boy's arm and tried to get him to stand. Dumbledore, in the meantime, grabbed the other arm and they were both about to Apparate when something flew in and planted itself on the floor in front of the boy.

It was the sword, driven a good foot into the cement, its edge gleaming. And as if on instinct, the boy shot out his right hand and grasped the handle. Dumbledore yelled, "Severous, now!" and with a _Crack!_ the three of them and the sword disappeared just as other wizards entered the room.


	5. In the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts

Ichigo became aware of two men arguing. Well, it was really one man shouting at the other, but he could feel from the spiritual pressure that they were both extremely pissed at the other. His amber eyes blinked open and saw a white ceiling covered in early morning light. He was lying down on a white hospital bed and covered with a thin blanket. Turning his head, he noticed white curtains separating him from the rest of the place, wherever it was.

_ Where am I?_

He wondered briefly before getting up. When he did, he realized he was wearing only the bottom half of his uniform. His entire torso was covered in bandages, as well as some parts of his arms. And when he lifted a hand to his face, he felt yet another bandage around his forehead.

He checked his spiritual pressure, and found that it was dangerously low. Another month in the tank might have done permanent damage. Of course, Shiro helped by supplying his energy too, but still, it was ridiculous how weak he was right now.

_**Yo, King. You finally got **__up, said Shiro, his inner Hollow._

_ Shiro, where am I?_

_**Hell if I know, Jii-san said he'll take us to some school.**_

_ School?_

_**Like I said, hell if I know.**_

_ Where's Zangetsu?_

_I'm here, don't worry._

_ At this Ichigo relaxed. Finally, after months of separation, his zanpakto was with him again. He had missed that part of his soul, and was relieved, no, overjoyed to have him back. He gave a mental grin._

_ Good to have you back, Old man Zangetsu. How bad is it in the city?_

_…_

_ Shiro? How's the city?_

_**It's completely trashed, broken glass and rubble. And we're swimming in the damned Pacific Ocean in here.**_

_Those bastards. I'm gonna kill them._

_**Let me come out and I'll join ya.**_

_Hell yah you'll join me in pummeling their asses._

_Ichigo, they're coming._

_ I know. I'll be right back._

_**Let me out soon, cuz one of them is the fat man. I'll rip up that bowler hat and shove it down his throat.**_

Ichigo glanced up at the shadows cast on the curtains. He felt their reiatsu, and knew that one was the fat man with the green bowler, and the other was the Jii-san who was there the day before. So when the curtains were drawn back, he wasn't surprised to see them.

They however, seemed to be surprised to see him awake. Mentally, he smirked when the fat one jumped back in shock, while on the outside he kept scowling. The other man with blue eyes seemed to know what he was feeling and let out a small smile. Ichigo looked at the taller and much leaner figure. The man pulled out a stick, he learned it was called a wand from his time in the tank, and waved it in the air. Suddenly, out of thin air, crashed down two comfortable chairs and Dumbledore took a seat in one of them, while the fat man took a reluctant seat in the other.

He had a long silver beard (did all strong old guys make it a thing to have long beards?) and shocking blue eyes. Though he was obviously ancient, his eyes were far from dull. Rather, they were as alive as a kid's, twinkling like someone poured glitter glue into his eyes. His strange robes were midnight blue and on his head was a matching wizard hat. Since he saved him, Ichigo decided he wasn't an enemy, but that never meant he was an ally.

He held out a wrinkled hand. "Albus Percival Wulfic Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and pleased to make your acquaintance."

Ichigo hesitated before shaking his offered hand. "You have a long name, Jii-san." he commented in accented English.

Dumbledore chucked. "May others say the same."

Fudge glared at Dumbledore. "This is no time to exchange words with a creature that can potentially kill the entire Ministry!"

"Watch who you call a creature, Minister."growled Ichigo, turning his burning eyes to Fudge.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And how did you know he was the Minister, er…"

"Ich-"

_Not your real name!_

_ Wait, then which one?_

_Use the one in your fake passport!_

"Ichiro. Ichiro Kuro" he finished.

_ Why not my real name?_

_They might look in your records and find something out! Better to use the cover story we got when we were on the mission._

If Dumbledore found something strange in the way he Ichigo, or Ichiro, stopped, he made no comment. "Thank you, Ichiro. And, again, how did you know he was Minister?"

Ichigo snorted. "Because he pranced into the room every day and everyone called him the Minister. The glass wasn't sound proof, you know."

Fudge shot a look at the orange-haired teenager. "You know an awful lot of English for a foreigner. What were you doing, floating in the skies of London with no broom?"

Ichigo shrugged. Urahara had made him a fake background before he went on his mission to England, but the floating in air part was a little hard to explain.

"I took English as a class in Japan, and came here on a vacation over the summer. I was_ supposed_ to be with my relatives, but as you could tell, I was kidnapped, tortured, and my magic was being drained from my body."

Fudge reddened. "That doesn't explain anything! I want answers, you creature!"

Ichigo bristled with fury. In his mind, Shiro and Zangetsu howled with outrage. But before any of them could jump up and attack the Minister, Dumbledore leaped up from his chair and stood between the two. Ichigo only saw the midnight blue back of the old man, but he could fee rage rolling off Dumbledore and suffocating the room. The reiatsu of the old man was soaked with anger, and Fudge felt it, even if he didn't know what it was. It was like in the animal kingdom, where an animal backs down and away from another, because it feels its superiority. And so, just like the weaker animal, Fudge quickly stood up from his chair and rushed out. But as he opened the door he shot a dirty look at Ichigo, who shot a look of pure hate in return. Then the Minister turned and left through the doorway.

Dumbledore's reiatsu continued to leak out in anger before calming down. He sat down again and faced Ichigo.

"The Ministry nowadays, I'm afraid, Ichiro, is less than sturdy." sighed Dumbledore while running a hand through his beard.

Ichigo scowled. "I'm surprised it hasn't collapse with their pitiful morals."

At this, Dumbledore glanced up. "Ah, regarding your situation. You are in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the Hospital Wing, where we have been treating your injuries for the last few days, although you have proven to be a… fast healer."

Ichigo shrugged off the comment. _It isn't Shiro's fault for having regenerative skills._

_**Damn straight it's not!**_

Dumbledore continued. "You have been in the basement of the Ministry of Magic," here Ichigo felt Dumbledore's reiatsu flare with anger "for about three months."

"THREE MONTHS?!"

_I was stuck in that place for three months!? Rukia and Renji are going to kill me, Yuzu and Karin are probably worried sick, and oh Kami, Yama-jii is going to set me on fire for not turning in a report, and I'll have at least fifty unanswered Hell Butterflies. Speaking of which, I need to get to them soon._

"Now, Ichiro, I'm sure you-"

"Sorry Jii-san, but can you open a window, or a door?"

"Do you need fresh air?"

Shaking his head, Ichigo replied glumly, "I wish it was just that."

Though confused, Dumbledore flicked his wand and opened the windows and the doors of the Hospital Wing. With the windows open, Ichigo braced himself and shot out a portion of his reiatsu towards the ceiling like a flare. It was barely the size of his pinky finger, but it was the most he could do in his weakened state. And though it might take a minute over the usual instant appearance, the Hell Butterflies could track his location. Having sent his signal, Ichigo leaned back on the pillows of his hospital bed and sighed. Coming from outside the room, his ears picked up various people walking and chatting. He threw a questioning glance at the wizard.

"I did say that this is a school for wizards. We are probably serving breakfast in the Great Hall at the moment." Dumbledore explained easily. He raised an amused eyebrow at Ichigo and asked, "But why with the windows, Ichiro?"

Seeing at it was better to prepare the old man first, Ichigo explained. "I'm expecting some, _mail_, I guess you could call it, and thought it would be harder for it to enter with windows closed."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. Do you use owls often?"

Ichigo frowned. _Owls?_ "Er, no. I use, um… er…" Ichigo cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I use-"

"BUTTERFLIES!" came a shout from outside. There was a sound like a massive riot and panic, and some yells of "BUTTERFLIES!" thrown in. Ichigo winced at the sound of some plates crashing, and watched as a swarm of at least a hundred butterflies made their way into the room from the windows and the doors.

Black with purple markings, the Hell Butterflies fluttered and soared towards the orange-haired shinigami and the silver-bearded wizard. They landed on the bed, the walls, the ceiling, or on Ichigo himself. Some even rested their wings on the headmaster, who looked highly amused. Ichigo sighed heavily and lifted a finger for the first message.

"Well, I use butterflies for mail, Jii-san."


	6. The Magical Oddities of Hogwarts

Later in the day, Dumbledore left the Hospital Wing to attend to something. This left Ichigo alone in the room with at least a hundred unanswered butterflies. _I'm going to turn mad before this is all done, _he thought before crashing down, again, on his pillows. But he got up again and listened to messages from friends and family first.

The ones from his family had a tearful Yuzu, with some threats thrown in from Karin if he didn't come home soon. Those were about two months ago, he noticed with a wince. His shinigami friends had mostly left curses and threats like Karin did, although their language was much rougher and definitely louder. Of course, there was the occasional exception, like the 12 Division captain requesting a blood sample from Shiro and him, like he asked every week, the creep. His living friends had sent butterflies too, probably with the help of Rukia, and with each message his heart sank lower and lower. By the last message, he felt like Guilt stabbed his stomach over and over again, something he unfortunately had experience with. He had made so many people worry over him, and made his sisters cry. Ichigo felt like trash.

**_King, let me out already! Your head is making me soaked!_**

_Sorrry Shiro, didn't mean to make it rain in there._

_**Come on old man, we're busting out of this crazy's head!**_

With that, both of the residents of Ichigo's inner mind appeared next to him, and both were soaking wet. Ichigo started as some water splashed on him, scattering Hell Butterflies. He grabbed some towel on the table next to him and tossed his Hollow and his sword a couple each. Hell Butterflies began to all take off and filled the air again.

"See King, your head is a mess. I blame you if I get a damn cold." Shiro growled before shaking his head like a dog. "Why don't we have a submarine in there?"

Zangetsu nodded in agreement. "Ichigo, make us a submarine."

"Can I do that?"

Shiro scowled at Ichigo. "Are you stupid? Course you can, it's your own mind!"

Ichigo sighed. "I'll get you one later. But you're going to help me out with these Hell Butterflies. I already took care of the personal ones, it's just the business ones left."

Hollow and Zanpakto glanced around them. There were at least fifty of the insects left, perched on every square inch. It was looked, to be frank, hopeless. Shiro began to whine. "I want to fight someone! Let's go outside!"

"Shiro, if you haven't noticed already, we are literally an inch from rock bottom in reiatsu. I don't want to wait more than I have to in building it up again." growled the shinigami.

Shiro stiffened. Apparently he just noticed that they were indeed close to running on zero. With such little energy, a normal fight would be over before it began. He let loose a stream of curses that would have made grown men blush like school girls.

"Fine, I'll help with your crap." He sat on the floor and held out a finger. Next to him, Zangetsu did the same. Within seconds, a Hell Butterfly floated to them and began to relay their messages.

"To the Substitute Shinigami, we have yet to receive a report from you concerning the ratio of Hollows and Pluses, from…"

"To the Substitute Shinigami, we have yet to receive a report from you concerning the percentage of spiritually aware in…"

"To the Substitute Shinigami, we have yet to receive a report from you concerning…"

"To the Substitute Shinigami, we have yet to receive a report…"

"To the Substitute Shinigami…"

"To the Substitute…"

"To the…"

"To the Substitute Shinigami, we have located your body in London, England. It will be held by Urahara Kisuke, until further notice. This has been done with the approval of the Head Commander, Second Division Captain, Fourth Division Captain, Sixth…"

"Ichigo, Hats n' Clogs has your body." Shiro told him in a dead voice. After the last fifteen butterflies, he would have ceroed them all if he wasn't low on energy. God, how did they make everything sound so boring? Did they hand-pick people with monotone voices?

Ichigo grunted in reply, busy listening to a different butterfly with a glazed expression. Only Zangetsu was really paying attention at this point. Both teenagers had heavy eyes and blank faces as they waved butterflies away and moved onto the next one.

Suddenly, the three of them perked up. Another reiatsu was approaching the hospital wing, and none of them recognized it. Quickly, Shiro and Zangetsu vanished back into Ichigo's mind as Ichigo drew the curtains around his bed again. Whoever it was, he wasn't risking being seen. All the reiatsus in the school were high enough to see him in spirit form, and he doubted the Head Commander of the Gotei 13 would be pleased with him showing his face to the living in soul form.

The doors burst open and an old woman in emerald robes strode in. Her hair was in a tight silver bun and she reminded Ichigo of some teachers back at home, the do-your-work-or-fail-the-class type. But she should walk away, after all, there was nothing to indicate he was there-

**_King! The moths!_**

Ichigo looked at the curtains. Through the thin fabric he could notice the faint shadows of three Hell Butterflies, perched sideways and standing out remarkably with against the white. The old woman noticed the butterflies too, and walked briskly towards his bed. She stopped a few feet from the curtain and spoke in a stern voice.

"Mr. Kuro, the Headmaster wishes that you are briefed about your _situation_ in my office. And you are to wear a pair of student robes. When you are done, meet me outside of the Hospital Wing."

Professor McGonagall placed a set of student robes on a small table next to the bed and was about to turn to walk away when she heard a voice from behind the curtain. "Um, do you have a second set?"

She raised her eyebrows, but pulled out an extra pair she had been carrying and set that down on the desk too. She walked away in confusion. Strange how the Headmaster had asked she bring _two_ sets, not one, for the boy, and strange how he requested the second one as well. The professor shook her head and left the room.

Although she denied it at first, she was curious to see who this boy really was. She had learned he was Japanese, and probably unstable from the magic draining in the Ministry. McGonagall had also known the mysterious sword that had accompanied them had vanished into thin air, like an illusion. The boy was strange, no doubt, and definitely had more secrets than not.

The doors slid open and two figures stepped out. They could have been twins, but for the fact that one was all white with black and gold eyes. The other had bright orange hair that could rival the Weasley's, and brown eyes that seemed to frown on their own. Both wore the black robes of a Hogwarts fifth year student.

The professor looked curiously at the white one. She had known there was only one they brought back, saying the other had vanished into thin air. So how had he been in the Hospital Wing? It wasn't possible to Apparate, and entering the grounds on foot would have sounded the alarms. _So how,_ she wondered, _had he entered Hogwarts?_

"My name is Ichiro Kuro, and this is Shiro Kuro, my twin," stated the orange haired teenager. His accent was obvious, but didn't block his speech too much. The other one, his twin, simply nodded towards her.

She stood there for a moment before realizing that they were waiting for a reply. "I am Professor McGonagall, Mr. Kuro, Mr. Kuro. Please follow me to my office."

The old woman, or Professor McGonagall, turned around with a swoosh of her robes as walked down a stone hallway. Ichigo and Shiro both followed her down, having a silent mental conversation as they went.

**_What the hell, Shiro Kuro? What kind of crappy name is that?_**

_ Jii-san already knows your name is Shiro, and if we're gonna be twins we have to share the same last name!_

_ But Ichigo, you two are technically twin souls, not just two humans born together._

_ I know that, but I'm not gonna tell her THAT, don't wanna reveal too much about us and the whole Shinigami thing._

_**Whatever, but Kuro? KURO?! Do I look like a Kuro to you? No! I'm Hichigo Shirosaki, damn it, not some Shiro Kuro! Hell, that thing rhymes too!**_

_ Too late to change it now, Shiro Kuro._

_**Damn you old man, I'm going in to pummel your ass!**_

_ Wait! Not in front of people! Remember, you can't go disappearing like you usually do back at home! These people don't know anything! They think you're my actual twin, not some crazy Hollow who lives in my brain!_

_**Who the hell you calling crazy, bastard?**_

_Ichigo, Shiro, is it just me, or did the paintings just move?_

_ Huh? Are you going crazy too?_

Both twins ended their conversation and snapped their eyes to the walls. They had passed a dozen painting already, but being so caught up in their talk they didn't realize an important fact that the painting next to them was having a chat with its neighbor.

Both of them yelled simultaneously, "WHAT THE HELL?!"

Professor McGonagall stopped in her tracks. Her lips were drawn in a thin line and her face was set rather hard. "Mr. Kuros, I would highly appreciate it if you two did not yell in the halls, especially during class time."

"But-the paintings- wha-" Ichigo stuttered.

"What the hell? They're _talking_ for God's sake!" interrupted Shiro, pointing a white finger at the paintings, whose residents now stopped talking and looked at the two curiously.

"Such an odd pair of students," muttered a fat man to his fellow painting.

"A pity one didn't develop a cure for a Discoloring Charm yet, I mean, look at the white one!"

At this Shiro bristled. "What was that, you lump of paint?!" He made a move as if to punch the painting, only to be held back by Ichigo.

The professor sighed. She had had this experience with Muggle-born students, although none of them reacted so _violently_ towards the moving pictures.

"Wizards have developed a potion that, when a picture is dunked in it, allows the picture to speak and move. All pictures are like this in the Wizarding world." She explained as calmly as she could to the struggling twins. Then, she resumed their trip to her office.

The rest of the way was filled with more exclamations from the two Kuros. They argued if the moving stairs had personalities or not (when Ichiro claimed they didn't, he just so happened to fall into a fake step and trip, whiles his twin Shiro cackled madly) and seemed downright scared when Flitch's cat began to follow them, muttering something like 'Yoruichi.' But the oddest part was when they saw Peeves. He had swooped down, cackling and dragging chalk on the walls, but stopped dead in his track before the two twins. His eyes grew wide with shock, and he had scrambled back, yelling "Not yet, not yet!" before zooming out of their sights. After that meeting, the two badgered the elderly teacher on the subjects of ghosts, throwing out question after question.

"Only wizards can stay in that state?"

"Yes, Mr. Kuro, there are no records of a Muggle ghost."

"How long can they last?"

"It's not officially known, though some of ours have been around for thousands of years."

"Have you seen one with a chain on their chests?"

"Only the Bloody Baron has chains as far as I know."

"Ever been able to touch one physically?"

"It is not possible, our hands pass right through them."

She was grateful when they reached her office. Waving her hands and cutting off any other incoming questions, she entered the blessed room and the twins followed after. Conjuring up two chairs in front of her desk, McGonagall said, "Sit," an order the two followed like dogs. She sat down herself, momentarily savoring the peace and quiet, before forming a way to approach a delicate subject regarding the twins. McGonagall straightened in her chair and faced the identical faces. Her mouth opened to speak when she was rudely interrupted by a loud shout.

"SHUT UP!"

"Oh for the love-" she muttered darkly before striding quickly to the door to find out who was yelling. She shoved open the door and Professor McGonagall's eyes snapped to a red faced boy with a lightning scar standing in the hallway.

"What on _earth_ are you shouting about, Potter?"

**Okay, since Ichigo and other shinigami have extra reiatsu, they are different from normal ghosts. Thus, the wizards can come in physical contact with them. And wizards have slightly higher reiatsu than normal people, so they have enough to see them but not enough to become one. Hopes that clears up misunderstandings:)**

**I don't own bleach, hp, thanks for reading!**


	7. Harry Potter Overhears

Harry Potter's day was spiraling down the drain. First there had been the random butterflies that causes major panic and eventually led to someone knocking a goblet of pumpkin juice on his lap. Then there was the ominous warning from the Weasley twins on the dreaded O.W.L. Ron had chased away Cho Chang with his tactless questions on her Quidditch team. Snape had practically given him a fail for the class, and finally, the toad Umbridge sent him to Professor McGonagall. And now, there was the said teacher looking at him like he was another Weasley prank.

"Why aren't you in class?" Peeves swooped away, cackling gleefully.

"I've been sent to see you." said Harry stiffly.

"Sent? What do you mean sent?"

He showed her the note, and day grew worse and worse as her eyes grew narrower and narrower. Finally, when she finished reading, her head snapped up and she ordered her to enter her office. Harry glumly followed.

Inside, he saw two other people, one with orange hair and one with white, sitting on chairs. Their backs were turned to him, and so for a moment he thought it was the Weasley twins and one of them had a misfired spell. Until they both turned around and looked at Harry with keen brown and gold eyes.

It was like seeing a reflection on a cursed mirror. The orange haired fifth year(his robes were obviously in that grade) had a scowl set on his face and in his brown eyes looked at him as if to determine if he was an ally or an enemy. His double on the other hand was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and looked at him as if to determine his strength. His eyes had black sclera and his golden eyes glinted madly.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes,"

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes."

"You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"

Before he could answer the last part, the white haired twin laughed. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? What's with wizards and their long titles?" His voice was warbled like he was speaking through water.

The other one poked him in the ribs with a rather thin elbow. Harry faced the two with his mouth open. Who didn't know about Voldemort?

"Mr. Kuro," said Professor McGonagall in a stern voice, "I suggest you remain silent until I finish with Potter."

"But Teachy, we were here first!" whined the white hair, plowing on despite the orange hair attempting to break his ribs to get him to shut up. His voice sent goose bumps up Harry's arm. It was creepy and unnatural.

"Mr. Kuro, please address me by my proper name, and Mr. Kuro, please stop ribbing your twin before he cracks a bone."

The orange hair reluctantly put down his arm, shooting the teacher a look that said, _he wouldn't have broken a rib_.

"Teachy, it's not nice to keep guests waiting in your office! My, my, I would have expected more from a Hoggy teachy, but I guess not!"

McGonagall's eyes flared up with fury. The white haired one grinned wider. Harry was dumbfounded. Who were they? And a Hoggy teachy? Did the two fifth years have a death wish?

"Potter, stand outside the door. We'll resume our talk later." Professor McGonagall didn't even turn her head when she waved him out, too busy glaring holes into the white hair. He rushed out, not wanting to be caught in her anger, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Now that he thought about it, he had never seen the two fifth years before. He was certain the bright orange hair and the whiteness of the twins would have been the center of attention from day one. He glanced at the door. It couldn't hurt to eavesdrop on them, could it? He crouched by the door and pushed his ear to the wood.

"-supposed to be under Ministry watch because of your, _unusual abilities_, but of course the Headmaster argued against them, insisting your freedoms."

Here he heard them mutter in agreement.

"But the best they could agree on was that you two will be staying in the Hogwarts castle until proven that you pose no threat to the wizarding community. No complaining! You cannot step outside the Hogwarts grounds. You two are transfers from the Japanese magical schools. You two _can_ cast a spell, right? With your magic abilities, it should be easy. Later in the week, a wandmaker will come to the school for your wands."

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, we can supply our own wands. Right, Shiro?"

"How, Mr. Kuro, do you intend to do that?" asked Professor McGonagall in a curious voice.

"We won't tell, Teachy, mostly because Potty is listening outside the door, aren't you Potty?"

Harry felt like an ice cold hand grabbed his heart when his name was mentioned. He scrambled back and tried to look innocent. The door burst open and the white hair stepped out. He looked down at Harry, his golden eyes flashing.

"POTTER!" barked Professor McGonagall.

Harry winced. He was dead for sure. He nervously looked up at Professor McGonagall who joined the white hair by the door. Steam was practically coming out from her nostrils, and she looked more intimidating than a dragon.

Ichigo, on the other hand, had yet to leave the office. _Quick, what do we do? He heard our conversation!_

_**Ask Zangetsu, he's the smart one!**_

_Make some small talk, buy some time to think!_

Ichigo spotted the pink slip on McGonagall's desk. He grabbed it, forced himself to calm down, and easily stepped out.

"Professor, I wouldn't be so hard on him," said the orange hair. Harry's head snapped towards him as he walked out, reading Umbridge's note. "After all, he had detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow."

"Damn, unlucky guy. Lemme see that note," said the twin as he snatched the pink parchment out of his hands. They had their fair share of improvisation between skipping out of school and explaining why Ichigo was supposedly found unconscious on the streets. And they learned the hard way that you need to buy some time first.

Nodding, white hair grinned and read, "Every day at five o'clock, for being disrespectful towards the teacher, spreading lies to scare other students, etc. Well, at least he didn't skip classes like you did, King."

"I had reasons for that, Shiro," growled orange hair, "and you know it." Shiro grinned wider. But inwardly both were flinching at the rising reiatsu of the teacher beside them.

_Shiro, quick, McGonagall is gonna blow!_

"POTTER!" McGonagall yelled again. "SAY ONE WORD, AND-"

"Teachy, don't yell in the hallways, especially when there's class going on!" gasped Shiro with fake horror. On the outside both twins looked relaxed, but inside they were having a rapid conversation.

**_Zangetsu old man, got anything yet?_**

_ Damn, if only we had a memory modifier._

_Ichigo, we can convince him that we are transfers of we play this right._

_ How Zangetsu?_

_Just listen to me and repeat._

Ichigo nodded. Bending down in front of Harry, who was still sitting on the floor, he extended an arm and said, "Ichiro Kuro, fifth year from the Magical Academy of Japan. And that is my twin brother, Shiro Kuro, also fifth year. Nice to meet you." Shiro, his brother, Harry noticed, seemed oddly ticked when Ichiro mentioned his name.

Harry quickly mumbled, "Harry Potter, nice to meet you, too." He grasped the offered arm and stood up. When he did, he noticed both teenagers were unusually tall and thin, almost thinner than him.

Ichiro continued speaking. "We're here because the Japanese have unique magical abilities. Originally, we were sent to convince the Ministry that Japanese magic isn't a threat to them, but the Headmaster of Hogwarts decided it would be better to interact with students our age. We can't leave Hogwarts because the Japanese wizarding communities are still under suspicion from the British."

**_Smooth old man._**

_ We should ask him for help more often. Our lies suck._

_Shh. Focus._

Harry nodded. It fit perfectly with what he heard, but something seemed off. He looked suspiciously at the two. "Where are your wands?" he demanded.

Ichigo froze. Shiro, who had stepped closer to stand next to him, grinned wider to hide his nervousness.

_Uh, Zangetsu? We got a problem._

_Hang on, I'm concentrating._

Harry looked at Ichiro and Shiro expectantly. Behind him, he saw Professor McGonagall frown and shift feet. Harry looked at the two. They seemed to be concentrating on something. _Probably another excuse_, he thought as he waited. Inwardly, he smirked. He had them now.

**_Old man, anytime soon?!_**

_It's hard to make myself into a twig! And into two of them! Wait another moment!_

_ We don't have another moment!_

_**Hurry up!**_

_Done!_

Ichigo suddenly felt a weight in his sleeve. He reached up and pulled out a rather long black wand made completely out of metal. Next to him, Shiro pulled out a similar wand, only white in color. Both of them smirked. "These are our wands, Harry Potter."


	8. introducing Ichiro and Shiro Kuro

**Disclaimer-don't own hp or bleach, enjoy!**

**_Damn, that was close._**

Ichigo nodded in agreement, leaning back on a stone wall. After Harry Potter had been chewed out by Professor McGonagall, he left without a word to the two. Both Harry and the twins knew the black haired boy didn't buy his lies, but at least he was smart enough not to question. When Harry was gone, the Professor had congratulated their quick cover up, to which Shiro had cockily grinned and asked, "What cover up? We're just Japanese transfers, Professor."

Now they were standing outside of the Great Hall, waiting for Dumbledore to get on with introducing them so they could eat. They had received their basic nutrients through tubes in the tank, but nothing beat actually chewing and feeling your stomach fill. Delicious aromas of strange foods wafted through the door and drifted towards the two, bringing out complaints from Zangetsu.

_Why can't I eat too?_

_ Because they don't know about you yet._

_**And cuz you're an old man while we are still young and good-lookin'. Well, me still looking good, not so much King though.**_

_Hey! We look the same!_

_**But you fail to have my handsome coloring.**_

_Handsome my ass. Who has black scleras?_

_**Who has that bright ass orange hair?**_

_Who has white hair?_

_Regardless, we all passed our eightieth birthday a while back._

_ But since technically, I was killed when Hat 'n Clogs cut my Chain of Fate, we still look pretty young._

_**Thank God, I don't wanna look like some eighty-year old geezer.**_

_But I still want food._

_**We can feed you under the table like a dog, old man.**_

_You're the horse, you should be fed like an animal._

_**You're lucky I can't come in there to beat the crap out of you.**_

_How are you going to do that? I'm your sword._

**_ My fists and cero. Though I would feel bad about beating up an old man._**

_We're both past eighty!_

_Shh, I think Jii-san is starting to speak._

"May I have your attention please?" rang out the voice of the old wizard. The clamor of the students and staff died down, and Ichigo could feel the reiatsus in the room shifting towards the Headmaster. "Thank you. Tonight, I will be proud to introduce two special guests who will be staying with us for the next year! Please welcome, Hogwart's transfer students from Japan!"There was a spike in everybody's reiatsus, and cries of shock echoed throughout the tables. Ichigo sighed and glanced over at his double.

_Ready to spend the next year at school?_

_**Hell no, but not much we can do in our state is there, King? I mean, we're weaker than goddamned Pluses.**_

_Remember, the moment we have enough energy we're busting out of here, regardless of Ministry._

_**Damned straight we are.**_

Ichigo and Shiro stepped from the walls and approached the Great Hall's closed entrance. They reached out and began to push the oaken doors open, orange hair on the left, white hair on the right.

At dinner, Harry was telling Ron and Hermione about the strange twins while trying to block out whispers around his shouting match with Umbridge. Hermione listened with rapt attention, while Ron had multi-tasked by plowing down his dinner. Hermione's frown grew deeper and deeper.

"I dunno mate, they seem fishy," said Ron through a full mouth. "I mean, special abilities?"

Hermione spoke up. "I've never _heard_ of Hogwarts having transfer students before. The closest was last year's Triwizard Tournament, and that was only because of contest rules!"

Ron swallowed down his food hard before replying. "But it's not like they're Death Eaters or something. I mean, Professor McGonagall was in this."

"But everybody was convinced that Mad-Eye wasn't one either, and look how that turned out!" argued Harry.

"Do you think they're Death Eaters, Harry?" asked Hermione with a worried glance.

Harry frowned. While it was true he felt like they were hiding something, they seemed too young to be one of Voldemdort's followers. But it could be polyjuice potion, or other disguising charms. But why have spies who were extremely noticeable? Between the strange coloring and their tall stature, they would stand out the most out of the students. So if they weren't Death Eaters, what were they? Ministry spies? But wouldn't it have been easier to stick student spies with the first years? Like the Death Eaters, they would draw too much attention.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "But I know that they're hiding something. The way they came is too strange. And I doubt that they will be useful spies, I mean, they stand out a lot."

Ron nodded in agreement. "White haired bloke sounds like a freak."

Hermione rolled her eyes. But whatever comment she had about his tactless observations was cut off as Dumbledore stood up from the teacher's tables.

"May I have your attention please?" rang out the voice of the old wizard. The clamor of the students and staff died down and they all looked expectantly towards the Headmaster. "Thank you. Tonight, I will be proud to introduce two special guests who will be staying with us for the next year! Please welcome, Hogwart's transfer students from Japan!"

There were gasps of shock and immediately everyone began to shout out questions. But in the middle of it, the doors to the Great Hall opened up, and two figures walked in, one scowling and one grinning. Everyone shut up, and snapped their eyes towards the two. As they passed, the three Gryffindors heard whispered comments. Some girls giggled at the sight of the two's chiseled faces, which were undeniably good looking.

"-not at the feast yesterday-"

"-white hair-"

"-Japanese-"

"-fifth year?"

The twins stopped by the teacher's table and bowed slightly to the staff, reflecting their Japanese roots. The teachers seemed only mildly surprised at the pair, obviously they had known about the transfer's appearance beforehand. Umbridge was smiling a sickening sweet smile that rot out werewolves' fangs. Dumbledore smiled through his silver beard and resumed his speech.

"Both Ichiro Kuro and Shrio Kuro-" again Harry saw Shiro flinch at his name, "-will be staying with the Griffindors and will continue their studies as fifth years. They are Japan's first transfer students as well, so please enlighten them on the British culture. Now-"

"_Hem, hem"_ Umbridge interrupted like the night before. Without waiting for a reply, she asked Dumbledore. "What school would this be, Headmaster?"

"Fat toad, sit down and let Jii-san finish," came the scathing reply from the white haired twin. The watery echo of his voice was gone, but the casual speech was still there.

Students gasped in shock while others suppressed laughs. He had just bluntly insulted a teacher, something even Peeves had yet to do. And not just any teacher, a _Ministry official_.

Umbridge's face flushed a deeper pink than her cardigan. "Detention!" she shrieked, pointing a chubby finger at Shiro. Next to him, Ichiro scowled deeper.

"Hey, what the hell was that for? You can't just give Shiro a detention if he was only telling the truth, old hag," said Ichiro, rousing more gasps from the students again, this time with teachers. Umbridge's face turned into a dark magenta.

"Double detention! Both of you! The entire week for insulting your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" She leaped off her chair, jabbing her finger at them.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts? You? Hell, no!" shouted Shiro. He turned to face the Headmaster. "Jii-san, can you take her out of our schedules?"

Students roared with laughter. Teachers' faces were an odd mixture of amusement and horror at the Japanese transfer's actions. Dumbledore was chuckling slightly.

"DETENTION FOR THE WHOLE WEEK!" Umbridge shouted furiously at the two, who were still standing easily in front of the teacher's tables. Her bow had fallen off in the middle of her jumping up and down, pointing her finger at the shit-eating grin of Shiro.

"At least we were being polite by asking if we could leave. We're gonna ditch your class anyway." commented Ichiro, not at all fazed by the fact that a teacher was giving him a week's worth of detention.

"DETENTION FOR TWO WEEKS! NO, THREE! THE WHOLE MONTH!" Great Hall echoed with laughter. The sight of Umbridge jumping up and down added even more to her toad-like appearance. The Weasley twins were roaring, close to tears. Even Professor McGonagall's thin lips were twitching upwards.

The twins ignored her and faced Dumbledore. The old Headmaster waved his hands for silence before talking. "I'm afraid that you two have beaten the record time of receiving a detention from a teacher. No, Mr. Kuro, I'm afraid we cannot remove Professor Umbridge's class from your schedules. And you may not cut classes," Shiro groaned at this. "Now, enjoy your dinner, new Hogwarts students!"

The Great Hall was filled with applause as they made their way down towards the Gryffindor table. Ron was laughing again, along with other Gryffindors.

"Bloody brilliant, did you see the look on Umbridge's face!" he shouted between laughs. "I don't care if they're Death Eaters or not, they're brilliant!"

"It was rather unusual," replied Hermione. "They insulted a teacher/Ministry official on their first day, and received detention for it the first day."

"Oh, c'mon Hermione, even you have to admit, the face on Umbridge was priceless!" groaned Ron, waving his hand towards the still purple Umbridge.

Harry had to agree; watching the shades of color change on her face was hilarious. And the twins seemed to carry an attitude that defied orders on instinct. He looked over at Ichiro and Shiro where they were being bombed with students congratulating and questioning them. The white haired twin seemed to notice his gaze and turned around to look at him. Shiro's eyes, he notice, were no longer black and gold, but were a normal white and amber like his twin. Shiro muttered something to Ichiro, who looked bewildered by the oncoming questions. Both slipped away from the crowds and made their way over to them

"Hi, can we sit here?" asked Ichiro, gesturing towards the empty seat in front of the three. When Harry nodded yes, the two sat down and began to dig in with a pair of chopsticks. They ate like they hadn't had food for months, and for a while neither said anything, too busy filling their mouths with British food.

At last, they put down their chopsticks and leaned back on their seats. "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter," said Hermione, taking the chance to introduce themselves. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Ichiro blinked. "I'm Ichiro Kuro and this is my twin Shiro Kuro."

"That was amazing, you just insulted Umbridge four times!" cried Ron, his mouth full of apple pie. Ichiro scowled.

"The hag had it coming. Who does she think she is, the Headmaster? Is she trying to get Jii-san fired?" The orange haired boy sighed and poked Shiro in the ribs. Again, Harry saw how skinny the twins were. "Oi, Shiro, let's go."

Shiro groaned and stretched. Harry asked, "Do you know where the dorms are?"

Both shook their heads. Hermione took this moment to become a prefect and grinned. "Well, come this way, we're done with our food too." She dragged Ron away from his apple pie and walked away from the tables.

On the way to the Gryffindor tower, Hermione asked them questions regarding the Japanese schools.

"What was the name of your school? What did it look like? Were classes hard?"

**_Damn, she can talk_**_, _muttered Shiro in his mind.

Ignoring Shiro, Ichigo tried to answer the incoming questions. He decided to describe their supposed school after the Shinigami Academy in Soul Society.

"It's called the Shino Academy of Japan, looked like a traditional Japanese building, and the classes were very hard," answered Ichigo.

_Well, sword fighting and kido were two very hard classes._

"How do you know English so well?" she asked as Ron gave the password to the Fat Lady.

"The Academy requires you to take a language class, and we took English."

**_More like I stayed in your head and listened to the English lessons._**

"Is Asian magic similar to European magic?" The portrait swung open behind her.

"Umm… yes?"

"What type of wands do you use? Are the spell pronunciations the same?"

"Hermione, watch out!"

Hermione, who had been busy looking behind her back to talk to Ichiro, didn't notice Nearly Headless Nick racing out the portrait hole until he passed right through her, now barreling straight towards the transfers. Harry expected it to past right through them, but to his shock, they both reached up a hand and stopped the ghost in its tracks.

Their fingers gripped on the silvery figure, they began to yell at him.

"Watch where you're going!" yelled Ichiro.

"You could have seriously ran into someone!" yelled Shiro.

Nick's eyes widened bigger than Galleons, and he looked at the hands clutching his shoulders. The three watched with equally wide eyes at the twins doing the impossible: touching a ghost. Nick's eyes traveled to the twins, and he said something in a gasp.

"Death Gods."

**Horray! Done with this chapter!**


	9. Death Gods and Detention

The moment Nick said 'Death Gods' Ichirou and Shiro let go of the ghost like the touch burned them. Their faces looked like someone had caught them with their hand in the cookie jar, the universal expression of _shit, we're doomed_. Nick dropped to the floor, and the twins ran into the portrait hole and up the boy's dormitory. Without a word, they were gone up the stairs, leaving three confused and one shocked. Nick, still wide-eyed, gingerly touched the place where Ichirou and Shiro had grabbed him.

"No, it's not possible," Hermione breathed. "No one can touch a ghost."

"Death Gods," Nick murmured again. "And the Hero of the Winter War at that."

"Uh, Nick," Ron ventured, "Care to explain what the bloody hell happened?"

The ghost looked up at the three of them. "Who were those two?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"Transfers from the Shino Academy of Japan," answered Hermione. "But what-"

"Shino Academy. Of course. But what is _he_," Nick breathed, "doing _here_? I must go contact the other ghosts." Nick picked himself off the ground and swooped away, leaving the threesome behind with open mouths.

"What-" Ron said, "the bloody hell was _that_? They grabbed a _bloody ghost!_"

Up in their room, Ichigo and Shiro slammed their door shut and entered their inner minds. The water had dried up, but the buildings were still little more than rubble. They cleared a small area of broken glass and other building remains before sitting down.

Zangetsu was first to speak. _Care to explain what happened?_

Ichigo groaned and ran a finger through his hair. _It was instinct, all those years of Goat-chin ambushing me. I just reached up and grabbed the Plus._

_**Damn it, we joined Gryffindor to make sure that Potter kid didn't ask questions! How the hell are we gonna explain this crap?!**_

_And how the hell did the Plus know we were shinigami?_

_Your energy is still one of Death Gods, though significantly weakened. The real problem is, if the spirits of the schools recognized you as Kurosaki Ichigo. Being famous isn't going to help with our cover. It's best if they just think we are some unranked soldier._

Ichigo frowned in confusion. _That shouldn't be a problem, though, seeing as I'm only known in Japan._

_**Britain's afterlife has records on you too, dumbass. An 15-year old idiot with borrowed shinigami powers who invaded Japan's afterlife with the reiatsu of a captain, and broke into Hueco Mundo, taking out Arrancars left and right, no way in Hell they're gonna overlook that.**_

_Let's hope word from the afterlife doesn't leak into Hogwarts ghosts. Otherwise keeping the shinigami a secret from students could be much harder than it should._

_ I don't think the ghosts will talk though, they seemed kinda reserved._

_Ichigo, tonight I'll go out and talk to the ghosts._

_ Huh? Won't you be seen?_

_I'm much quieter than both of you, and smarter too._

_**Hey!**_ Shiro threw a rock at Zangetsu, who dodged easily.

_You two should get some sleep. Get ready for school again and detention for the next month._

_**Hag had it coming, not my fault her parents were toads.**_

_Good night old man, and good luck with the ghosts._

All three of them left Ichigo's inner world and opened their eyes. Ichigo glanced over at Shiro and his new normal eyes. McGonagall had given contacts that would charm his eyes into normal white and tawny over his black and gold. She had also had a spell cast on his throat to get rid of the Hollow's normal voice. Overall, he seemed more human like, but Ichigo found the whole thing unnatural. He was too used to the black eyes and knife-grating-on-a-stone voice.

Shiro glanced around to make sure the room was secure. The lock was bolted on the door, the floors seemed sturdy, and they were high off the ground judging by the window. It would be safe enough to talk, but he was going to learn some wizard tricks later to sound proof the room. Years of the Stealth Force trying to kill the Vasto Lorde taught him that much. Not that he minded the attacks on him, he actually enjoyed the fight. It was just that they were always too weak and afterward King's head would be pouring rain from supposed guilt.

The Hollow walked over to the window and threw it open, welcoming a cool night breeze. With the breeze came in the remaining Hell Butterflies. While King examined the room further, Shiro listened to the remaining messages. Finally, he sent two Hell Butterflies of his own.

"Hey, Karin, Yuzu," Shiro had been accepted as a second older brother some sixty years back, "don't worry, we're fine. Just got in a situation for the last three months where we couldn't talk, and for now we're resting until around May, so don't expect us home for a while. We'll come sooner if possible. Tell everyone we said hi. And give Goat-Chin a punch for me. Later."

"To the annoying person who keeps sending these report notices, SHUT THE HELL UP! Send out Hell Butterflies with our papers and two extra Soul phones. With all the data that was in the last pair. And what the hell were you dumbasses thinking, giving King's body to Urahara? Do you have your heads up your asses? Give his body to Karin Kurosaki, seated officer of the 10th, or to Yuzu Kurosaki, seated officer of the 4th. And give Yama-Jii my usual complaint on too much paperwork. From Shirosaki Hichigo."

Shiro had just waved away the last message just as Ichigo finished looking through trunks full of extra clothes. In the corner of the room was a huge stack of books, notes, quills, and ink. On top of it all was a note. Ichigo grabbed the note and read it.

_I suggest you two start reading. There are four years of schooling to learn. –Professor McGonagall._

Groaning, he picked up a random book and tossed it to Shiro, who snatched it out of air, before grabbing one himself. "Start reading Shiro, we have four years of notes to cover."

(pagebreak)

Zangetsu walked down the hall silently, blending in with the shadows. He had slipped past students using light shunpo. It was turtle-like in comparison to his normal speed, but he didn't want to strain himself. Luckily, the other two were resting in the dorm, so he had more energy than he would have if they were active. It was like they were batteries sending reiatsu to the sword, an odd reverse of the usual situation.

The ghosts, it seemed, had all gathered in a dungeon, probably for a meeting. He followed their faint trails of reiatsu down the castle floors. When he arrived, a ghost, the one Ichigo and Shiro had stopped, was talking to the hundreds of ghosts in the room. Zangetsu slipped in unnoticed and stood in the shadows.

"-and then they caught me by the shoulders!" there were gasps. "Yes, they actually caught me! Now, I looked at their faces and saw the faces of Substitute Death God Kurosaki Ichigo and his twin Vasto Lorde Shirosaki Hichigo!"

Zangetsu wanted to bang his head on the wall. The two had been recognized.

_Ichigo, Shiro, you've been found out,_ he called out mentally to the pair in the dorm.

All around him, ghosts moved around in shock, shouting out to one another and causing general mayhem. The mention of the Hero of the Winter War, as Ichigo was now called, and his twin soul the Vasto Lorde drove the meeting into madness. And no wonder. In the years after the Winter War, Ichigo had grown more and more famous. There had been a scandal for years when he revealed his twin soul, Shiro, but in the last few decades they had convinced Soul Society Shiro wasn't a threat. Ichigo had chosen not to join a squad, but act as an independent substitute. But that didn't stop the Head Commander from sending swarms of Hell Butterflies with mountains of paperwork. Zangetsu was snapped out of his thoughts about the past when a ghost nearly sliced his nose with a sword.

At this point, the zanpakto decided to step in. He let out a bit of pressure, not enough to send them to the floor, but just enough to get them to notice him.

All the ghosts flinched and turned their eyes toward Zangetsu. He stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself. The dead wizards gasped as they recognized him even before he gave his name.

"Zangetsu, sword of Kurosaki Ichigo and Shirosaki Hichigo," said the old man in a clear voice. The other members of the room just stared in shock at him, looking like fish with their open mouths.

The ghost that was telling his tale came to his sense first. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Hogwarts ghost," introduced the ghost, bowing. As he did, Zangetsu noticed a ragged cut around his neck. "Welcome, Sir Zangetsu, to the noble and ancient castle of Hogwarts."

Soon other ghosts snapped out of it too and made their introductions. They seemed slightly scared of him and kept a respectful distance, something Zangetsu didn't mind. If he was a Plus who wanted to stay in the living world he would keep his distance from a zanpakto too. After over a hundred introductions, all of which he forgot (he would never admit it, but he was just as terrible at memorizing names as Ichigo), Nick asked the question all the ghosts had on their minds.

"Sir Zangetsu, if you don't mind, we would like to know why there are Death Gods posing as Hogwarts students?" inquired Nick.

"The Ministry of Magic has been illegally absorbing the," Zangetsu search for a word, "magic, so to say, from my wielders. Although there has been no permanent damage, it will take months of rest to regain the lost energy. It would be easier to do so in Hogwarts than anywhere else."

A ghost from the corner piped up. "Why can't you return to the afterlife and rest there?"

"We are too weak to open a Gate and besides, we owe a favor to the two men for rescuing us from the Ministry."

"Is there any way we can help those two?" asked a motherly figure in the back.

Zangetsu looked gravely at them all. "You can help by keeping our identities a secret." The dead shivered at his cold glare and nodded. Some who were headless held up hands to show they agreed. Seeing as his point was conveyed, Zangetsu gave a curt bow before leaving the dungeon and returning to the dorm.

(pagebreak)

In the common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discussing the impossible event that took place. They were sitting on their three favorite chairs by the fireplace, homework forgotten by their feet.

"See? I told you, there is something wrong about those two!" said Harry.

"Blimey mate, they grabbed a ghost!" said Ron, stating the obvious.

But Hermione was lost in thought. "Nick said something when Ichiro and Shiro grabbed him," she murmured quietly. "Something like 'Death Gods' and 'Hero of the Winter War.'"

"Bloody hell," said Ron, "you don't think he was talking about Death Eaters, Harry?"

The scarred boy shook his head. "He said 'Death Gods' for sure, not Death Eaters," he said. "Although they do sound similar."

"I've never even _heard_ of Death Gods before," said Hermione, rubbing her temples. "Or someone physically touching a ghost for that matter. You're right Harry; there is something wrong about those two."

"'Hero of the Winter War,''' repeated Ron. "Ever heard of a Winter War?"

Both of them shook their heads. Harry could tell all the unanswered questions were killing Hermione with her love of knowing things. It was bugging him too, like an itch he couldn't reach.

"I'm going to look in the library tomorrow," declared Hermione, ever resorting to her trusty source of knowledge. "There must be some mention on Death Gods and a Winter War."

That night, Harry looked up while lying in his bed, trying to figure out the tangled mystery of the twins. They were supposed to be under Ministry watch, and Harry doubted it could be because of some Japanese transferring issue. And what was that about abilities? What were those two capable of? And how was it related to Death Gods and a war? He fell asleep with unanswered questions swirling in his mind.

(pagebreak)

In the morning, Ichiro and Shiro joined Harry and Ron for breakfast in the Great Hall. Hermione had rushed off to the library muttering 'Death Gods', so she was absent from the tables.

"Morning," they mumbled before grabbing a cup of strong black coffee each. Wearily, they grabbed various ingredients to mix into their drink. They had dark shadows under their eyes, and walked with a slump.

"Blimey, what's got into them? They look like ghouls," whispered Ron to Harry.

"We heard that Ron," muttered Shiro, not looking up from mixing ketchup with mustard. Ron's ears turned red. Harry reached over and grabbed his arm before Shiro could slip the mixture into his coffee.

Shiro looked up and scowled. "What?" he asked irritably.

"You were going to spill the sauce into your coffee," said Harry.

Shiro jerked his arm out of Harry's grasp. "That's what I planned to do, idiot." He then dunked the revolting mix of condiments into his cup and stirred. Both Ron and Harry almost gagged. Wordlessly, as if by telepathic communication, Ichiro passed his twin some soy sauce and Shiro poured that into his cup too. Looking at the orange haired twin, Harry saw him calmly, if not tiredly stirring hot sauce and relish into his coffee.

"Are you mental?" cried out Ron as they both lifted their cups to drink. "That's stuff's lethal!"

They ignored him and drank deeply into the poisonous substance. Ron and other nearby observers turned green at the sight. One boy rushed off to the bathroom to upchuck his breakfast. Ichiro and Shiro drained their cups and slammed them down on the table.

"We were feeling a little tired, and made this to wake ourselves up," explained Ichiro.

The two did seem a bit more awake, Harry thought. But then again, the drink would have woken the dead. At least the transfers had a fairly normal breakfast afterwards; Harry didn't think his stomach could last if he saw them eating poison again.

In Double Charms, Hermione met up with them seeming thoroughly irritated. "Not a single word!" she yelled. "Not a single reference to them, or a war, nothing!" She slammed her bag onto a table and sat in sullen anger. Across the room, the twins sat close to the back.

Professor Flitwick started the class with a lecture on the O.W.L.s. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Shiro sleeping on his desk, not even trying to stay hidden. Professor Flitwick noticed the sleeping figure too and yelled out, "Mr. Kuro! Please demonstrate a Summoning Charm."

_Shiro, you're called on to do the Summoning Charm._

_**Huh, what?**_

_Shiro, Summoning Charm demonstration!_

_**Damn it, I was asleep! King, tell me how to do it! Buy me some time!**_

Ichigo sighed and began to relay the basics of the lesson. At the same time, he faced the small teacher. "Professor Flitwick, do you mean me or my twin?" He asked in a slow voice to stall time while rapidly cramming information into Shiro's brain.

"Your twin, Mr. Kuro," answered Flitwick. "Please demonstrate the Summoning Charm by summoning this cushion."

_You got it?_

**_Yah, I think I can do it._**

Shiro stood up from his desk and pulled out a long white wand. It glinted strangely in the light, and with a start Harry realized that it was made out of pure metal. Next to him students whispered, "Poor bloke, he was sleeping the whole lesson."

Shiro waved his wand and said in a clear voice, "_Acio cushion!_" The cushion zoomed towards the white haired boy, and Shiro easily caught it with his free hand.

A perfect demonstration of the charm.

Professor Flitwick, who had been expecting a fail, was surprised at the excellent performance. "Well done, Mr. Kuro, well done indeed!" He clapped his small hands together. "Five points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione was aghast. "He was sleeping! I saw him! He never looked up once!" she said as they walked out the classroom.

Ron shrugged. "Maybe Ichiro passed him his notes or something," he offered.

Harry doubted it. "I didn't see him pass his notes. Most likely they already knew the spell. They are fifth years," said Harry to a furious Hermione as they entered their next class.

Transfiguration started the same as Charms. Only this time, the two were asked to be seated in the front of the room. Shiro grinned widely and Ichigo's scowl deepened, but they did as the professor asked. When Professor McGonagall passed out the snails, Ichigo asked for a demonstration. Nodding once, Professor pulled out her wand and preformed the spell.

Ichigo observed closely the way she manipulated her reiatsu. It was more delicate than kido, but with the wands it was easier to control. The wand, he noticed, were like an icing pen for a cake. It made the wielder's power more compact and thus easier to control. But Ichigo resolved to try casting spells without wands at a later date. Who knew, it might be helpful in a fight.

Both Shiro and Ichiro focused their energy into Zangetsu's wand form and tried to twist their reiatsu like McGonagall. They were lucky the spells required little magic, or else their recovery would have been much slower. On their second try, both snails disappeared completely. McGonagall gave them and Hermione ten points each for successfully vanishing their snails, and class ended with them being the only three to not have homework.

During their lunch hour, Harry and Ron finished their potions essay while Hermione continued to search in the library. She darted around shelf to shelf, frantically searching for anything in the books. Finally, she ran over to them, her bushy hair flying. Again, there was nothing to be said about a Death God, or a Winter War. All three left for Care of Magical Creatures soon afterwards.

There they gathered around a pile of twigs on a table, which soon turned out to be bowtruckles. As usual, Hermione answered all questions perfectly and they were all assigned to draw one. However, when Ichiro and Shiro approached them, the bowtruckles began to act strangely. Some ran towards Ichiro, who just reached down and grabbed them before they could claw out his eyes. Others ran away in fear from Shiro, flailing their limbs as they ran. Shiro calmly summoned one towards him, it screaming in terror as it flew through the air. Professor Grubbly-Plank shot them a questioning glance as she gathered up the small creatures.

"Some animals hate me, and they get scared of Shiro," said Ichiro matter-of-factly as they sat down to draw.

Indeed, the creature, when being held by Ichiro, swiped his hand with long sharp claw, that didn't seem to do anything to his skin. And it absolutely froze in terror when in the grip of Shiro, its body stiff and looking like it was on the edge of having a breakdown. When class was over Harry wondered if the poor creature would ever be in the right state of mind.

At five, Harry sat inside Umbridge's horribly pink office. His plea of moving detention at a later date had failed, and the toad was still smiling smugly. Harry felt the urge to throw his ink bottle at her.

The doors to the office opened and Ichiro and Shiro strode in with their hands in their pockets. Again, they radiated this attitude of _don't give a shit_ and wordlessly sat down on either side of Harry. Umbridge smiled like she caught a rather juicy fly and passed out a quill to each of them. It was a long and thin feather with a strangely sharp point.

"I want Mr. Potter to write '_I must not tell lies_," she said to Harry, then turned to the twins, " and I want Mr. Kuro and Mr. Kuro to rewrite, '_I will respect my superiors.'_

"How many times, Toad-Face?" asked Shiro, twirling his feather like a wand.

Umbridge turned purple and said with forced sweetness, "Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_,"

"You haven't given us any ink," Harry said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge.

The first line cut into Harry's hand but quickly healed. He let out a gasp and glanced over on both sides to the twins. Their expressions were curiously blank, but they didn't stop writing or let out any indications of being shocked.

Their faces were blank because, unknown to Harry, they were on auto-pilot, with half of their minds focused on keeping Zangetsu back.

The usually calm sword was raging, barely being pinned down by the combined effort of Ichigo and Shiro.

_LET ME GO! I'LL KILL THE WITCH, FIND HER SOUL AND KILL IT AGAIN!_ he roared, swinging the meat-cleaver of a sword around.

**_Old man! Calm down!_** shouted Shiro, while desperately attempting to pin down his arms.

_Old man! It's just a scratch, we had worse and you know that! We hardly feel it!_

_THAT _(insert here your preferred curses)_THINKS SHE CAN CUT US AND GET AWAY WITH IT?! THAT_(again, insert your preferred curses)

_Look, old man, we'll use hierro, alright? And we'll break the reiatsu on the quill. Just give us some time to get the workings of the magic!_

Outside of their minds, Ichiro and Shiro were still writing, blood dripping from their hands in ruby streams. When they filled a page, they grabbed another parchment and wrote out a gallon of blood on that. They worked without a single comment, their eyes half closed and faces blank.

Harry felt like throwing up when he saw the stack of bloody papers piled on the corners of their desks. How they could write so calmly and emotionlessly, he had no idea. Umbridge had noticed their robotic manner too, and had a slight frown on her toady face.

"Come here," she said after what seemed like hours.

Harry stood up, but the twins were still sitting and writing like their hands weren't a bloody mess and dark pools of blood wasn't dripping onto the horrible pink floor. Harry felt sick at the sight but inwardly thought _I hope it stains._

Umbridge frowned and said a bit louder, "Come here."

There was still no movement but the steady scratch of bloody quill on bloody parchment.

"_Mr. Kuros!_" she shrieked, her patience lost. "Come _here!_"

Both finally snapped their heads up in surprise. They looked like someone who was sleeping had woken up by a bucket of water. They glanced down at their hands in shock and disgust. The wound seemed to have difficulty closing, and blood still seeped through.

"Hand," she said. Ichiro and Shiro ignored her and just flicked their hands like they were flicking off water. Blood splatters grew on the ugly ornamental plates with kittens. Umbridge winced as some blood landed just below her eye.

"Here," Shiro and Ichiro both extended a bloody hand. Umbridge looked as if she was going to grab the hands with her stubby fingers, but decided not to in order to keep her rings clean. But in Harry's opinion, the bloody could have been an improvement, as they could cover up how ugly the rings were.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to think to have made much of an impression yet," she said, her smile obviously forced as she wiped away the blood from under her eye. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

The three of them left without a word. When they had gone far away enough to be out of the hearing range of Umbridge, Ichiro and Shiro walked over to a water fountain and washed off the blood. Harry watched their calm demeanor in shock before turning on them.

"What were you thinking! Cutting yourself up like that?!" he said.

Shiro glanced up from his hand, "If you haven't noticed, genius, you were doing the same."

"But you two were just sitting there, _emotionless_!" he argued. "And you wrote an entire stack of lines! What if that scars?"

Ichiro finished washing and glanced up. "If I were you, Harry, I would worry about yourself," he stated with his ever present scowl. "We can handle small cuts like these."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but whatever he was about to say died in his throat. Ichiro's wound began to cover itself with a bone white substance, bubbling like plaster. He watched with awe and horror as the wound was sealed and the substance hardened. Ichiro then swung the back of his hand against the wall, and the white substance shattered like chalk. When he held it up again, the skin underneath was smooth and healed, with no trace of injury.

"Close the mouth before it catches a fly, Harry," said Shiro, also swinging his hand against the wall. Harry shut his mouth before opening it again.

"Is that your special ability?" asked the scarred boy.

Ichiro's scowl deepened. "Maybe." He and Shiro then walked past Harry with fully healed hands."Good night, Harry, see you in the morning."

Harry could only watch them as they walked away. "Who are you?" he murmured to nobody before walking after them.

**Bwah-ha-ha! Chapter up! R&R please!**


	10. Boring Detentions and Paperwork Threats

To say Harry Potter wasn't behind on homework would be to say Sirius didn't hate his mother's portrait. He hastily scribbled down some ridiculous dream in his dream diary and headed off with Ron to the North Tower. When Ron asked him about detention, Harry hesitated before answering. He wanted to rant his heart out about the old toad and her quills, but to do that would be defeat in his eyes. To complain would show weakness, and the last thing he wanted was to have Umbridge think he was weak. Plus, seeing his best friend's looks of horror would make the pain ten times worse. So Harry told Ron the half truth by saying he was writing lines. The redhead didn't have to know that he was writing in his own blood.

Meanwhile, both Ichigo and Shiro were working on their homework in Transfiguration class, as they had perfected the Vanishing Spell though they never practiced that night. Manipulating reiatsu was never their strong point, but with Zangetsu in his wand form, it was as easy as breathing. One of Harry's friends, Hermione, was glaring daggers at them as they worked; her eyes flashing like an animal whose territory had been invaded. She had been shocked when both had perfected the spell faster than her and jealous when Professor McGonagall had awarded House points to them. But she was nothing but sympathetic to Harry, who had bags under his eyes and was failing miserably at the spell. His reiastu (seen only by Ichigo and Shiro) was flickering and sputtering like a dying candle. It stayed that way the entire day, they noted with concern.

During detention Zangetsu was considerably quieter. Besides the occasional muttered threats, he stayed silent as they wrote. It was a gesture both the Shinigami and the Hollow appreciated, as they were concentrating on a problem at hand: Harry.

He was practically dying from exhaustion in between them. He was writing steadily enough, but his half-closed eyes and clammy skin were enough to show he was out of energy. Also, his reiatsu was almost at zero. This boy couldn't take any more cuts to his hand.

**_We could use hierro on him, so the quil won't cut him,_** thought Shiro.

_But Toad-Face will notice the lack of blood and make a different punishment, and I think she can think up of several more._

_**Damned Toad. My hand itches whenever I write.**_

_I know. It's as annoying as hell._

Oblivious to the mental conversation happening between his neighbors, Harry kept on writing with a growing tiredness. The quill's cuts were painful, and they were the only thing that kept him awake at this point. His skin, though it healed over and over again, was an angry red and stingingly raw. But he made no indication that he was in pain. Next to him, Ichiro and Shiro were working at a fast pace, cutting up their hands like_ blood? No biggie._

Harry shot a look at Shiro through his glasses. The pale fifth year had strange look on his face, almost bored, and was casually leaning on his free hand as he wrote. But as it turned out, he wasn't writing lines as he should. Harry's jaw dropped in shock when he saw what he was doing.

Shiro was doodling.

In his own blood.

It was a poorly drawn cartoon of him flipping his finger at a lumpy toad with a bow on its head. Harry looked at Shiro as if he was crazy. What was he doing! He was using precious blood to draw a picture!?

Harry swiveled his head to face Ichiro. Surely he had something to say about this situation? But when he saw the other twin's paper, his jaw dropped again. He was doodling too, this time a picture of him throwing rocks and trash at the same bowed toad, who this time was wearing a cardigan, which Harry was certain that would have been a horrible pink if it wasn't drawn in blood.

_ARE. THEY. MENTAL!? _He wondered in his head. By the looks of the papers before them, they wrote about three pages of lines before getting bored and doodling. Most were of them causing some kind of injury to the toad. He just stared at Ichiro open mouthed. Ichiro noticed his look and just waved him off.

The detention ended and Umbridge collected the papers. When she saw the doodles, however, she visibly reddened and stared. Harry craned his neck to see the papers.

There was them running over the toad, boiling the toad, playing football with the toad, and much more, all drawn in glistening ruby ink. From being used as a cleaning rag to being thrown off a cliff, they had drawn everything. Besides being horrified at the ungodly amounts of blood that covered the parchment, Harry was amused and impressed at their creativity. Umbridge looked up from the sheet, livid with anger, but the color drained from her lumpy face when she saw the twins. Harry turned to see what she was looking at.

The healing charms on the quills had long since stopped working on Ichiro and Shiro, and metallic smelling liquid flowed freely from the backs of their hands. But that wasn't what caught their eyes. Umbridge and Harry looked on in horror as they played hangman on an extra sheet, still using the cursed quills. Shiro was getting close to guessing the answer, but Ichiro had just about finished drawing a hanging toad.

The toady professor seemed to come to her senses and snatched the quills away. Shiro and Ichiro looked up in annoyance.

"C'mon Toad-Face, I was just about to win," complained Shiro.

Umbridge gasped, looking toadier than ever with her bulging eyes.

"Ah well, detention's over anyway, and I don't feel like staying in this pink hell much longer. Let's go Harry," said Shiro.

They both stood up, grabbing their bags and their game. Harry stumbled along, clutching his things. Ichiro and Shiro walked out, dripping blood onto the floor, past Umbridge and slammed the door behind them.

They were halfway to the Gryffindor Tower when Harry finally spoke. Or rather, half yelled.

"ARE. YOU. MENTAL?!"

Ichiro and Shiro stopped and looked back at him. In Shiro's hand was the finished game of hangman, probably completed by the remaining blood on their hands. But even though they had just played a game in their own blood, the twins looked at him like Harry was the crazy one.

"Are you mad?! Drawing in detention?!" cried Harry.

"Well, Shiro might be mad. I'm the saner one," replied Ichiro nonchalantly.

"Shut up," muttered Shiro.

"You drew in your blood! _Blood!_" repeated Harry, frantically trying to get them to understand the enormity of the situation.

"What did you want us to do, write lines?" said Shiro. "We were bored, so we doodled. Is there a law against that?"

"You could have _died_ from blood loss, or gotten sick, or-"

"Harry," Ichiro cut in. "we're fine. Look."

Harry reluctantly stopped ranting and looked. Both of their hands were already healed. Their sleeves were still covered in blood, but otherwise there was no sign of injury.

Of course. Their strange ability. But they could have still hurt themselves badly, to just casually waste all that blood! Harry was about to yell again when Ichiro cut in again.

"It's late," Ichiro said. "And you're probably gonna need to do homework, so let's just hurry up and get inside."

Harry thought about the mountain load of homework he had and shuddered. He was right. Homework came first, but he would talk to them later. All three of them entered the common room.

To his surprise, the Japanese transfers stayed up with him instead of going to bed. Ichiro and Shiro helped Harry out on his homework, pointing things out and letting him use their work as reference. They gave him their essays on moonstones and the proper handling of bowtruckles first. Later they guided through the Transfiguration questions and, when necessary, poked him awake. Shiro seemed to enjoy this part a bit too much. Harry was sure that he would be covered with small bruises from Shiro come the morning.

Harry fell asleep that night late, but earlier than had he done his homework alone. Despite being fully dressed, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately.

Thursday was sleepless hell. Even though he snatched a few more hours of sleep thanks to the Kuro twins, he was still bone-tired and heavy lidded through his lessons. Ron seemed to have trouble staying awake too, though Harry didn't know why. The orange and white haired pair seemed awake enough, though they had gone to sleep just as late. Maybe they were morning people? The world would never make sense.

In their last detention, Umbridge watched them closely as they wrote. Probably to make sure the twins didn't doodle again. They didn't doodle, but every so often the two would slip in some Japanese sentences. Harry couldn't read the characters, but he was certain they were insults directed towards the teacher. Umbridge seemed to think this too, and steadily added more and more lines to their quota. When this happened, they just shrugged it off. Their dismissal of pain was frightening and slightly inspiring. Though it was more frightening and left questions on their mental health.

_What makes them able to easily cut themselves?_ Harry wondered as they walked back to the room. He shot another look at their right hands. They had already healed, something that confused and annoyed Umbridge to no end, you could see it on her face though she never said anything. _Is it because they knew it would heal? But still, the pain must be unbearable!_

As Harry was pondering why they seemed so immune to pain, Ichigo and Shiro were chatting lightly with Zangetsu. Suddenly Ichigo and Shiro felt another reiatsu hiding behind a statue a little further up their road. It felt like one of Harry's friends, the freckly red haired one. What was his name? John? Kon? Definitely not Kon. Kami knows he would remember another person with _that_ name. Harry's friend, whatever his name, seemed to be hiding from something. Ichigo felt that it was something private, so indicated to Shiro to let the two talk in peace. Shiro nodded and grinned at Harry.

"Later Harry, we had a nice time cutting up our hands with you, but we think it's time for some sleep," said Shiro before darting into a hidden passageway.

"Yah, don't wanna butt into some conversation between friends," added in Ichigo before he followed his supposed twin.

_What friend?_ wondered Harry as he reached the top of the stairs and turned a corner, only to almost walk into Ron.

"Ron?"

He gave a great leap of surprise and struggled to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven.

"What are you doing?"

"Er-nothing. What are _you_ doing?"

Harry frowned at him. _Is this who they meant?_

"Come on, you can tell me! What are you hiding here for?"

"I'm-I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know," said Ron. "They just went past with a bunch of first years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione there."

"What have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?" Harry asked.

"I-well-well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh all right?" Ron said defensively, turning redder with each second. "I-I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," said Harry. Ron blinked. "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"

Ron seemed immensely relieved and began to talk about how he had played Keeper with his brothers. Harry learned that he had been practicing every evening since Tuesday, explaining his sleepless state. They both set off together towards the common room, Harry bitterly wishing he could be at the tryouts.

"Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?"

Harry tried to hide his right hand, but Ron had already grabbed it and pulled it to eye level. Harry frantically stammered to lie, saying it was a cut, but Ron had already read the words carved into his skin.

"I thought you said she was giving you lines?"

He hesitated, but since his best friend had told him the truth, he did the same about his detentions with Umbridge. Ron swore loudly and advised him to go to McGonagall or Dumbledore. But Harry refused, partly because he didn't want Umbridge to think she had got to him, he didn't know how much power the Gryffindor Head had over her, and he wasn't about to go to the Headmaster when he hadn't spoken to Harry since last June. Their conversation was about to carry on until the Fat Lady burst out in anger demanding that they get in or stay out.

"But you know Ichiro and Shiro, the twins?" continued Harry after they hastily entered the common room. "They have it worse, but they act like it's nothing."

He then described to Ron, whose eyes grew wider and wider, how many pages of lines the twins wrote on the first day and they didn't stop until Umbridge yelled out, like they weren't even aware of what they were doing. And how on the second day they just doodled and played games in their own blood, spilling more blood than if they had just written their lines. And finally their defiance tonight towards the professor by writing Japanese insults over and over again, even though they received more and more lines.

"And listen, _they can heal themselves_," said Harry as they reached their dormitory. "Their hands get covered with this white stuff, and it hardens, like rock. But when they break that white stuff, the skin gets healed! Nothing, no trace of cuts!"

"Blimey," Ron breathed, looking sickened and awed at the same time. "They're bloody mental, the two of them. Drawing with their own blood! I don't need to be Madam Pomfrey to know that that can't be good for them." Ron paused in thought before continuing.

"They grab a ghost, they write gallons in blood, and can heal themselves. Plus, Nick seemed to know them," Ron said as he counted off his fingers. He then stopped and glanced at Harry. "You know what, Harry, I think I actually might join Hermione in the library tomorrow. Something's up with them, I reckon, and I want to know what."

The next day, there was no sign of Hagrid and the looming prospect of detention again. At the Great Hall for breakfast, Ichiro and Shiro sat down in front of Harry, who sat alone that day. Both Ron and Hermione had gone off to the library in search of finding out the mystery of touching a ghost, healing oneself, and Death Gods.

The twins looked the same as ever, one grinning and one scowling like a pair of theater masks. Harry on the other hand, picked his food, dreading the idea of more homework and missed tryouts. He looked up to see if he would get any mail, but no sign of the snowy white owl. But there was something else flying with the owls and it wasn't a bird. It was small and black, and didn't glide like the owls did.

"Hey Ichiro, Shiro, what do you think that is?" Harry asked, pointing up at the dark blob. "Reckon it's a bat the owls carried in?"

Both looked up from their meal and searched for whatever he was pointing at. They pinpointed the flying object and groaned loudly. Confused, Harry looked at them.

"Dammit, they're here," muttered Ichiro, running a hand through his orange locks. "I hoped they would take longer."

"Can't help it, Jii-san has it out for us," cursed Shiro, for once the grin absent from his face. "All that crap about us not joining a squad."

"What's a squad?" asked Harry.

Shiro snapped his head up, again with the _oh shit, I screwed up_ face. "Umm…" he started, looking for support from his twin. Ichiro returned him a glare that said, _your mess, not mine_. The orange haired teen turned his attention to clearing out a space on the table, pushing plates away from him.

"It's a… thing that our… school has," Shiro explained, though it came out like a question. "Um… our Academy is like a training school. We focus on defense against dark arts more than the parlor tricks-"Harry winced at the insult"-you do here. So we are divided like the military, with thirteen divisions. Each of the top thirteen students is in charge of a division, called a Captain, with another student as a second-in-command, called Lieutenant. Get it?"

Next to him, Ichiro snickered silently for some reason while stacking plates. Shiro quickly aimed a punch at him, which was dodged easily. Harry cut in before Shiro could try to punch his twin again.

"So, if your school is divided into sections, like Houses, which ones are you two in?" Harry asked. Thankfully, Shiro took his attention off of Ichiro and replied.

"And that's our problem. Every student has to register into a squad, but we wouldn't so Yama-Jii, our Head Cap- I mean, Headmaster, sends us loads of paperwork. Like homework." He ended with a grin.

Harry frowned. "How did you manage to not join one?" He tried to imagine if he had refused to join any House, not just Slytherin. Then a thought occurred to him. "Were you not qualified?" he asked before realizing how rude he sounded.

Shiro didn't seem to care though and shrugged. "Nah, wasn't that. We were qualified, but because of something a certain _IDIOT,"_ Shiro emphasized the word and Ichiro stiffened, "did, we pulled off not having to follow the rules. Not joining a squad usually means no paperwork, but," he stopped and pointed to the blob, with turned out to be a swallow tailed butterfly, much like the ones that invaded the Great Hall a few days ago. "tell that to Yama-Jii."

The butterfly attracted the attention of other students, and they were craning their necks to see who it was going to. The black insect glided over to the Japanese transfers, and landed lightly on Ichiro's open palms. Harry watched curiously as Ichiro suddenly winced.

"How do they work?" he asked, gesturing to the butterfly.

"They're like recordings of someone's voice," answered Shiro. "And only the people it's intended for can hear the message. So I can hear the message too."

"What's it saying?"

Shiro grimaced like an amplifier was booming next to his ear. "Mostly we're being chewed out by Yama-Jii."

The message went something like this: _YOU IMBICILES! NO REPORT FOR THREE MONTHS AND NOW YOU WANT A VACATION UNTIL JULY?! YOU'RE LUCKY I DIDN'T SHOVE YOU INTO A SQUAD YOU BRATS! I'LL MAKE THAT DAMNED VACATION A LIVING HELL! ALL YOUR LATE PAPERWORK IS DUE BY TOMORROW BRATS! ONE COMPLAINT AND IT'LL BE DUE THIS AFTERNOON! AND NO SOUL PHONE!_

The shouting made Ichigo feel like his head was being pounded against cement, an experience he was sadly familiar with. When he felt like he got the gist of the lecture, he dropped the butterfly onto the table, effectively ending the yelling in his brain.

The antennas of the swallowtail drooped down and it seemed to scribble something onto the surface. Harry got a glimpse of a Japanese character before there was a _bang!_ and three stacks of papers fell from the sky and crashed down in front of the twins. Nearby students screamed in shock and some fell over. The bang echoed around the room, jerking all head to the Gryffindor table. Luckily, Ichiro had cleared away the plates, so there was no mess (except for Neville knocking over his goblet in surprise a few yards down) There was a teetering mass of paper at least three feet tall, and each paper was crammed with Japanese characters.

"Harry, learn to love homework here while you can," said Ichiro, who was eyeing the paperwork like Flitch eyed a Dungbomb.

Both transfers stood up and split the stacks into two. They heaved them up onto their arms with almost inhuman strength. Shiro's stack wobbled dangerously as he tried to grab his bag with his foot. Harry quickly grabbed it for him before the papers fell, as well as Ichiro's.

"Where should I put these?"

"Just put it on top of the papers," came a muffled answer from Shiro. Harry gently placed them as he requested. "Thanks. Later, Harry."

With the good-bye they walked out, ignoring the stares they received as they went.

Harry sat down in front of his meal again when they left. But he noticed a paper sticking out under a plate. Thinking they must have left something behind, he pulled it out. At the same time, Hermione and Ron arrived from the library, Ron looking mildly put out and Hermione raging frustration.

"I tried every book on magical creatures, but nothing on Death Gods!" she shrieked, slamming her bags down and falling into her seat. "And this 'Hero of the Winter War' doesn't exist! I looked over and over again, and still _nothing!"_

"Hi Harry, what's that you got there?" asked Ron as he served himself some toast, completely ignoring Hermione.

"_Ron!_" fumed the bushy haired girl.

"What? I already heard you rant outside of the library," he protested. Hermione huffed and turned away. "And I on the other hand, found out that they probably used a healing spell, though the description didn't say anything about a white stuff. So Harry, you learn anything while we're gone?"

Harry nodded. "Yah, I found out that their school is more focused on DADA unlike us and they sort students into 13 divisions, like Houses. But instead of teachers running the House, it's the top students doing so, acting as Captains and they have Lieutenants and stuff."

"Like a mock-miliatry," noted Hermione.

"Right," agreed Harry. "But get this: _they're not in any House!_"

Hermione's eyes widened. "But how does that work?"

"Shiro wouldn't explain much, but it sounds like someone did something so they didn't have to join a House."

Ron whistled. "Whoever did that must be really important, to keep them out of a House."

"I don't know," said Harry. "Shiro called him an idiot."

Hermione blinked and looked at the paper Ichiro and Shiro left behind. "What is _that?_"

"Huh?" Harry asked stupidly. "Oh, this? Something Ichiro and Shiro might have left behind. This morning, their homework from their school came by a butterfly."

"A _butterfly?_" repeated Ron. "Like the swarms that came that morning?" He shuddered at the memory.

"Yah, but only one. I guess it's like Japan's replacements for owls," said Harry, shrugging. "There was an entire pile of paper that appeared and then the two left with their stuff. Only I think they forgot something."

"What's it say?" asked Ron, who leaned over to look at the paper.

"I don't know, it's all in Japanese," replied Harry.

"Oh, give me that." Hermione grabbed the paper and pulled out her wand. She muttered a spell and tapped the paper. The letters began to move, like they were alive, and shifted into different shapes. Soon the entire paper was translated into English.

Seeing the boys' awed faces, Hermione answered the unspoken question. "I learned this because I wanted to be able to read foreign books as well."

Ron rolled his eyes and sighed. Hermione ignored him and they all crowded around the translated paper.

**To the Substitute Death God and Vasto Lorde,**

Here, Hermione gripped the table. "_Death God!"_ she hissed.

**The former Espadas Neliel Tu Oderschvank and Grimmjow Jaggerjack will be coming to the British wizarding school tomorrow in the morning. Please warn the Headmaster of their coming, to prevent any panic.**

** From the First Division Lieutenent****  
**

They read the paper, and read it again to make sure they read it right the first time.

Finally Ron spoke. "They're _Death Gods!_"

"No, one of them is a substitute for one. The other is a Vasto Lorde, which is Spanish for 'complete lord," corrected Hermione. "The problem is, which one is which?"

"Never mind that, Hermione," said Harry, shaking the paper. "These 'Neliel Tu Oderschvank' and 'Grimmjow Jaggerjack' people are coming to Hogwarts tomorrow!"

"If they're coming to Hogwarts, they must be teachers or high-ranking officials," continued Harry when they didn't seem to get it. "We have to tell Dumbledore that someone important is coming!"

"Harry, it says here that they're 'former Espada,'" said Ron. "Doesn't that mean they're quit or something?"

"Maybe," replied Hermione for Harry. She looked deep in thought as she looked up to the ceiling like answers would fall out of the sky. "Maybe they are really respected Japanese wizard, who was part of a group called Espada. Strange though, _espada_ in Spanish means _sword._"

Harry pushed away his meal and stood up. "I'm going to see Professor McGonagall and show her this note," he said.

"But it said to give it to Dumbledore," protested Ron.

"He's probably too busy to listen to us," lied Harry. In truth, he didn't want to go to Dumbledore because he didn't feel like meeting someone who wouldn't even make eye contact with him. "Later."

At 5 o'clock, later in the day, the twins slammed open the door and strolled inside, Harry following like a miserable ghoul.

He had gone to McGonagall, and had first gotten a lecture on reading other's letters before he could tell her what was in it. The professor looked just as confused as Harry when she read the names, but she understood that a wizard from Japan was coming to Hogwarts. The Head of the Gryffindor House promised to inform the Headmaster and then rushed him off to his next class. But after the mystery of the letter faded away, he again faced the misery of detention and missed tryouts.

Harry positioned himself so that he could barely see the tryouts out the window. It was a terrible view, and impossible to see which flying figure was which. But it would have to do.

Meanwhile, Ichigo was dealing with Shiro complaining in his mind.

**_Kiinnngggg! It's so borrriiinnnnggg!_**

_I know, I know, Shiro. Just keep writing. We need this report in by tomorrow._

**_Kiinnnnggggggggg!_**

_ ARRGGGHHH!_

That day, instead of writing blood lines, they had pulled out their paperwork and wrote on those instead. In case the toady witch looked their way, they cast up an illusion barrier to make it look like they were actually doing stupid lines. She never suspected a thing. And Harry was too busy trying to see through the window to even look their way.

**_King, it's time to go,_** Shiro said after a pile of filed papers.

Ichigo, who had been focusing on the papers, sighed and packed away the papers, careful to not disrupt the illusion. Then he pulled out from his bag a stack of papers with lines written in dark red ink. He gave half to Shiro and poured some extra ink on both of their hands. The red ink was a specially designed liquid that Urahara liked to use for his secret messages. A member of the Stealth Corps would recognize that it wasn't blood, but Umbridge would never suspect a thing. For fun, as it was permanent, they dumped the rest of the liquid on the floor to stain. When the work was done and their hands looked positively bloody, they dissolved the illusion.

Harry realized that detention was over. In the end, he couldn't see much of the stadium, so he had no idea what had happened. Umbridge walked over and trapped his bleeding hand in between her stubby fingers. He repressed the urge to shudder in disgust.

Suddenly, there was a flash of pain; not from his hand, but across his scar. There was also a strange sensation in his stomach area. And at the same time, the twins jumped a foot into the air and stared wide-eyed at Harry. Like they could sense what just happened.

_Shiro!_

_**I know King, I see it too!**_

Ichigo stared hard at the scar on Harry's head. Because, connected to the old wound was a Chain of Fate, floating gently in the air before fading out. It could only be a Chain of Fate, but there were several things wrong with it. The links were chipped, rusted, and in some areas coated with dried blood. And instead of being bolted to the chest like a normal chain, it looked like it was forcibly melted onto Harry's forehead.

_But he isn't dead… He isn't even out of his body!_

_**What the hell is wrong with that chain?!**_

Harry jerked his hand out of Umbridge's grip and moved back. Just now, he felt the pain in his scar again, when Umbridge touched his skin. And there was a weird feeling in his stomach, and a unnatural lightness somewhere in his ribcage. Umbridge's slack mouth curled into a sickly sweet smile.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she said softy.

Was she referring to the scar? Harry had no way of knowing. He barely heard her as she dismissed them all. He left as quickly as he could, the twins right behind him. He was in front of the Fat Lady when he faintly noticed Ichiro and Shiro weren't there with him.

Ichigo and Shiro shunpoed to Dumbledore's reiatsu. Everything about the Chain was _wrong. _The damage, the placement, the reiastu. Both agreed that the Headmaster probably knew the most about the chain, and so they both sped to the office, their black robes billowing out. They stopped by a gargoyle that was guarding the staircase. It looked at the two and spoke.

"Password?"

"We don't have time for this crap," spat Shiro. "Get out of the way before we cero you into dust."

The statue was either incredible brave or incredibly stupid. "No password, no entry."

"Oh for crying out- Shiro! Let's go!" Ichigo nearly shouted as he shoved open a nearby window and leaped out. The gargoyle let out a strangled noise of shock as Shiro did too. He stared after them as they ran on thin air like it was solid ground. He shook his head and muttered the answer to every mystery in the wizarding world: _Magic._

They used a more direct route to Dumbledore's office, running several stories off the ground. They reached Dumbledore's window and Shiro knocked loudly on the glass. Inside, the old man looked up in surprise and his mouth almost opened with shock. As it was, his brilliant blue eyes widened so much they could see the whites all around.

"Jii-san! Open the window!" shouted Shiro.

Dumbledore hastily stood up and pulled the window open, letting in two in. They leaped in and landed smoothly.

"Thanks," said Ichigo. He saw the older man's shocked expression and frowned in confusion. Then he realized. They had just, in Dumbledore's eyes, walked on air.

"Oh, uh, we thought it would be faster than guessing passwords," he explained lamely. Behind him, Shiro wanted to face-palm at his terrible explanation. But Dumbledore just nodded and walked back to his desk, surprisingly accepting the information well.

"Well, I would presume that you two were not on a midnight stroll?" He waved some seats into existence with his wand and gestured a hand towards them. "Please, sit, Mr. Kuros, or should I say, Substitute Death God Ichigo Kurosaki and Vasto Lorde Hichigo Shirosaki?"

Ichigo's mouth dropped open. "How-?"

"I have my sources," hummed the man. "And this one left an interesting tale to retell and a need for clean wallpaper."

_Dumbledore was filing papers in his office when something whizzed through the open window at dizzying speed. In a heartbeat, it spattered onto the wall in an explosion of dark, red liquid. Dumbledore immediately leaped up, his wand pulled out and a spell forming in his mind._

_ Is this a Death Eater attack? he wondered briefly. The dripping liquid looked suspiciously like blood as it slowly slid off the wall and onto the floor. Remaining liquid soon spelled out a message, as ominous-looking as the message of the Chamber of Secrets. It said:_

_**To the Headmaster of Hogwarts,**_

**_ The students Ichiro and Shiro Kuro are Substitute Death God Ichigo Kurosaki and Vasto Lorde Hichigo Shirosaki. Do not pry into the matters of the afterlife through them. Tell them that a certain humble shopkeeper requires them to protect the school during their stay, and should they refuse, remind them that their paperwork can be increased significantly._**

**_ Kisuke Urahara (a humble shopkeeper)_**

_ Dumbledore read the message in astonishment. I could have sworn it was a Death Eater attack, he thought as he walked closer to the splattered wall._

_**And anyone who thought this was a Death Eater attack has a very bad sense of humor.**_

_He was affronted. He had an excellent sense of humor, thank you very much! Nearby, portraits were muttering darkly with their neighbors. One former Headmaster commented loudly, "I hope it doesn't stain."_

_ The liquid continued to slide off the wall and a new sentence appeared._

_**It stains.**_

_The painting swore._

"My source also saw fit to tell you two that you are 'required to protect this school' from a 'certain humble shopkeeper' and he also mentioned that your paperwork can be increased should you refuse."

Ichigo swore, "Damn Hats and Clogs,"

Shiro added in, "Humble my ass."

The man smiled even wider under his silver beard. "I'm afraid I am not allowed to pry into the matters of the afterlife, though I cannot deny I am most curious on the topic."

He had a hungry, but sad look in his eyes when he spoke. Ichigo almost certain that he had lost some people, and wanted to see them again. He felt the same way with his mother, who he never really found in Soul Society.

"Alright," said Ichigo. "Now that you know who we are to some extent, we'll move onto the next reason for us being here." Without further ado, he asked bluntly, "What was the Chain of Fate on Harry Potter's scar?"

The smile faded from Dumbledore's mouth. His eyes became grave. "Please elaborate on this Chain of Fate, Mr. Kurosaki. I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I thought Hat and Clogs explained this to you," said Ichigo in mild surprise.

"No, no," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "I only received your identities. I know nothing of your backgrounds, or anything related. Though," he again gave a smile, "the terms 'Death God' and 'afterlife' leave little room for doubt on your occupations."

"I see," said Ichigo, leaning back into his chair. "Well then, a Chain of Fate is a chain that holds the soul to the body. And when a person dies, the chain is broken. It's usually bolted to the chest, though your wizard ghosts don't seem to have it. Probably because they have that special reiatsu-I'm sorry- spiritual pressure from when they were alive."

Dumbledore nodded to show he followed his train of thought. Ichigo took a breath before beginning again. "This chain was different, though. It was pretty beat up, rusted in some areas, and stained in others. The only time a chain is damaged, aside from being dead, is when it goes through an erosion process, which I am _not_ going to explain. Also, a normal Chain would be bolted onto the chest, but Harry's was sort of _melted_ onto his forehead, right on his scar." Ichigo described in a clear voice. "But Harry isn't dead, and it felt like it isn't his Chain, but someone else's. Like, I dunno, someone else's spiritual pressure latched itself onto him."

Dumbledore took in all this information with a slightly sad face. When Ichigo was done, he stared down at his old hands and said, "I'm afraid my theories have been correct. This foreign Chain on Harry's body is the final proof."

He looked up, suddenly looking much older. "Mr. Kurosaki, Mr. Shirosaki," he said.

"What do you know about Horcruxes?"


End file.
